#Plus nothing is set in stone

[dan-crimes]

Oh man the urge to draw and share my art is growing as I see tons of stuff I wanna draw THIS MIGHT BE IT GUYS I might finally commit to making a new art blog and posting art LMAO

[distantdarlings]

OUT OF IT // t. nott

RATING: R / 4.4K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested - based on this* Theodore Nott has been your best friend for years, but the closeness that you’ve gained throughout your friendship proves to be a little too intimate for the two of you to handle.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! PIV - no protection, fingering, light nipple play (f!receiving), dirty talk, tension, top!Theo, bottom!Reader, fem reader, language, super NOT proofread (lmk if I missed anything!)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Again (Sped Up) - Noah Cyrus

(Okay! So prep for this was super rushed bc I am about to go on vacation and just got done with a ton of work. I’m very sorry this is so quick and frazzled—hopefully you all can look past it. Thanks for your patience.)

- - -

The dimly-lit corridors always felt so cozy around this time of the evening. The skies outside were pitch black and the only form of light was the flickering, honeyed candles mounted to the stone walls every few paces or so. A rather clever spell had been cast on them to keep them from dripping wax all over the floors.

You combed your fingers through your hair, letting the strands slide across your skin. Keeping your hair pinned up always gave you just a bit of a headache, but being able to take it down after classes was a relief like no other. Your fingernails scratched lightly over your scalp in an attempt to reestablish some blood flow throughout.

After a particularly difficult day, you wanted nothing more than to eat a quick dinner and then crash into your bed. You felt as if you’d been going non-stop since waking up this morning with nothing but a bagel and some tea in your stomach for the whole day. You were sure if you spoke to a muggle physician, they’d have some choice words for you. You could practically feel the dark circle sprouting beneath your eyes.

You turned one final candle-adorned hallway before arriving in front of the Great Hall. You arrived on the later side of the allotted dinner times, but you knew the food would stay on the table until the last student who intended to eat arrived. That was part of Hogwart’s lovely charm.

A wave of warmth from the fireplace in the corner washed over you like a blanket. The sudden temperature change brought on a case of chills across your body. A small shudder flowed through you.

Your eyes scanned the table on the far end of the room—its dark wooden surface topped with deep green runners and dishes of food. Sitting alongside the farthest end of the table were the most familiar faces in the entire school. A gentle smile appeared across your lips at the sight of your friends chatting and laughing together.

You approached the table with the same smile painted on. As you drew closer and caught a few eyes, you raised your hand for a polite wave. All of a sudden, you were a bit more awake than you had been.

A set of bright eyes turned and locked with yours, prompting a jolt of energy through your chest. You settled in next to the owner of those special eyes, allowing him to wrap his arm around you and pull you in close.

“How was your day, tesoro?” Theo asked, pressing a small kiss to the side of your head.

“It was good. What about yours?” you asked. He shrugged and flashed you a smile. He’d never been one to talk much about his day.

You gathered some food onto your plate, Theo never taking his arm from around you even when he went back to eating.

“So, how was everyone’s day?” Enzo asked cheekily, eyeing the two of you. The young man in front of you had always had a deep insistence that you and Theodore Nott would be the perfect couple.

“You’re perfect for each other,” he would say. “You compliment each other so well, plus you’re already so comfortable around each other!” To which, you’d always laugh and shake your head, only mostly ignoring the fantasies that would twirl through your mind after the fact.

You were not going to date Theodore Nott. He was your best friend—had been for years.

“Fine, thanks,” you replied snarkily, popping some kind of berry into your mouth. It crunched between your teeth pleasantly, bleeding dark, sweet juice. It was unlike any other fruits you’d ever tasted, but you never knew what you were going to taste at Hogwarts.

“Mm, you’ve got a bit of—” Theo started. Still chewing on a bit of food, he ran the thumb of his free hand over the corner of your lip and promptly placed it against his tongue. He sucked the flavor off of his skin, then turned back to his dinner.

It didn’t much bother you, just ignited a bit of heat against the wall of your gut. Mattheo and Enzo, however, acted like they’d just seen someone hurl into the dinner bowls.

“Hello, friends!”

The group turned to face Pansy Parkinson. A dainty, but lean girl with striking black hair cut across her cheeks in sharp, even lines. She was truly one of your only female friends, considering how often you hung around a male party.

“Hey, Pans!” The group chorused, offering lazy waves and full-mouthed smiles. She smiled a bit and took a seat next to Enzo. She selected an apple from the bowl just before her and took a large chunk out of it, her pale eyes flicking around the table.

“Why are you all so quiet?” she mumbled around chunks of apple.

Enzo snuck his arm down beneath the table and discreetly bumped Pansy’s ribs with his elbow twice. They were sure you hadn’t seen their little gesture that translated to ‘I’ll fill you in later,’ but you most definitely had.

You struggled not to roll your eyes as you knew they’d gossip for hours about how you and Theo would be the perfect couple. Honestly, it used to bother you a bit, knowing your friends were talking about you behind your back. But with a quick and direct questioning of Enzo, you realized that they weren’t so much gossiping about you as they were rooting for you. Their support didn’t matter, though. You would not be dating Theodore Nott.

***

That night, as you had begun to settle in for bed, you found yourself thinking of Theo. You always thought of him around bed time. There was never really a time when your best friend wasn’t floating around your head, but at night, when you were recapping your day, you thought of him.

Theo had a nasty habit of popping into your head at the worst of times. During tests, holidays with your families, your dreams, and even when you…when you would get into bed and slide the velvet drapes hung around the frame shut, and let your hands slide beneath the covers.

You swallowed thickly at the thought. You would not be dating Theodore Nott. No matter if he did cross your mind when you touched yourself. You inhaled shakily and slid beneath the covers, ignoring the ache in your chest and the pulsing between your legs.

***

The next morning, you found yourself wandering down to the Great Hall just as you had done the night before for dinner.

And just like last night, Pansy, Enzo, Mattheo, and Theo were waiting for you just like they always were.

You slid into the space beside Theo and laid a sleepy head against his shoulder, letting a slightly dramatic huff out.

“Oh dear, looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” Theo teased, placing a kiss to the top of your head. The audience members before you each made a different face at the show of affection. It never bothered you and it had seemingly never bothers Theo, but your friends had a habit of turning it into something it didn’t need to be.

“Yes, I did,” you sighed. “I barely slept a wink last night—I was tossing and turning all night.” Which was not a lie, but a bit of an understatement. Your sleep had been plagued with visions of Theo.

Theo looking at you, Theo kissing you, Theo touching you, Theo Theo Theo. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Theo looked down at you. You met his eyes.

“Is everything alright?” he asked.

“Yes, why?”

“You’re clenching my arm really hard,” he chuckled, glancing down at your clutched fist around his arm. Oh. You quickly let go of him and apologized, embarrassed that he was having such a physical effect on you. You’d never been so distracted before. Sure, you’d had these thoughts of Theo before but it had never affected you in your everyday life, and certainly not in front of him.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Enzo interrupted. You turned and the three sitting across from you all seemed to be staring with concern.

“You seem out of it…,” Mattheo said, looking you up and down. Pansy voiced a small agreement.

“I’m fine,” you chuckled nervously. Theo placed a hand on your back and began to rub comforting circles around the center of your spine.

His touch against you was almost too much to bear.

You shied away from him and, forcing a smile, you got to your feet and quickly excused yourself. You knew if you looked back, all of them would still be staring at you but you needed to get away. Theo’s hand on your back was nearly enough to make you come undone.

These altered feelings of him had your mind running haywire.

You scurried off down the halls, twisting and turning, and avoiding any and everyone. The Slytherin dungeons weren’t that far from the Great Hall, but every step you took made the hallway feel as if it was elongating. It felt as though you would never reach it and as if you’d be walking for the rest of eternity, when you came upon the secret entrance.

You mumbled the password then slipped through the doorway.

Other than a few scattered students, there was practically no one in the common room. Hopefully you’d be able to get a bit of privacy upstairs in your bedroom.

Thoughts of Theo swirled around your head, threatening to fall in on you and drown you in your own desire. You had no idea why he was having such an effect on you.

Once you came upon the door to your dorm, you pushed through the door, slammed it quickly behind you, and collapsed onto your bed. A quick survey of the room told you that it was empty, except for your panting body.

You set yourself against your pillows, drawing your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. If you kept having such an issue, you were just going to have to avoid your friends for the next few days.

You refused to let any silly thoughts get in the way of your friendship with Theo. You’d had plenty of intrusive thoughts pertaining to him in the past. That didn’t mean you were in love with him or had any feelings for him other than platonic. People had weird thoughts about their friends all of the time—it didn’t make them true.

A knock on the door drove its way through your train of thought. A small jolt ran through your body at the sudden sound.

Assuming it was just one of your roommates, you invited them in. But one of your roommates did not walk through the door. Theo did.

Upon seeing him, you shot up to a sitting position almost immediately.

“Theo—I didn’t know it was you, I’d really like to be alone right now if—”

“That’s fine. I’ll leave as soon as you tell me what’s wrong.”

His eyes were stern with his jaw clenched tightly, the muscle running across the bone rippling with every grind of his teeth. If you didn’t know this boy like the back of your hand, you might’ve mistook his concern for fury.

“Nothing’s wrong. Like I said, I’m just tired.”

“There’s something else,” he spoke. “I can tell. I’ve known you for nearly as long as I’ve been alive. Do you seriously think I can’t tell when something’s bothering you? You brushed away my hand, you—you barely looked at me earlier. You’ve never, ever turned me away like that—and if you decide you’re done with me, w-with us—that’s fine, but I deserve an explanation.” He stepped forward and left nothing but a few inches between the two of you. “I demand one.”

His ramble ended with deep, heaving breaths, his eyes staring down at you with longing and panic, and your saliva nearly getting caught in your throat. If you hadn’t closed your mouth that had been gaping open, you might’ve choked.

He stood so closely, you could feel his breaths on your chest. You attempted to avoid his eyes but it was as if he’d locked you to him. You couldn’t pull away.

“Theo, I’m not…done with you,” you exhaled shakily, “I always want you.”

His eyes softened a bit.

“Er, to be here with me as my friend!” you gasped out quickly, trying to ease the landing of the borderline confession you’d just spouted out.

His mouth dropped a bit as he seemed almost disappointed. Surely he didn’t feel the same way.

“What if I want to be here with you…but as more than just a friend,” he whispered. His deep voice rumbled beneath the pressure of his chapped lips. You couldn’t help but glance down at them briefly.

Once you had, his breath hitched in his throat just a bit, and you knew he’d seen you. You knew he’d seen your eyes dart from his deep, crystalline eyes to his barely parted lips. His tongue swiped over his bottom lip, just enough to grant them some hydration from how deeply the two of you had been breathing. A shudder passed through you at the sight.

“What’s…more than a friend?” you breathed, your voice wavering as you found it increasingly harder to pull your eyes away from his lips.

What a stupid thing to ask.

“I want to show you what it is,” he said. “I want you to feel what more than a friend is.”

You almost jumped out of your skin when the tips of his fingers brushed against your forearm. He seemed to be testing the waters and, though your reaction wasn’t exactly calm, must have decided that it was okay to move forward again. The fingers from the opposite hand brushed alongside your other arm.

“Let me show you what it feels like,” he whispered.

“I don’t want to lose anything we have because of one stupid mistake—because we couldn’t control ourselves,” you said, biting your lip nervously. You knew it was a cruel thing to say but it was the truth. Theo was the best thing that had ever happened to you, even before you couldn’t escape the feeling of his eyes on you.

“I won’t let anything change us,” he said. “Let me give you all of me before you decide you need some of me.”

Shakily, you pressed your lips together and nodded slowly. You were all his.

He smiled just a bit, a shaking breath pushing through his lips as if he’d been holding it for a while.

His hands were slow and patient, carefully mapping out every place he intended to touch and ensuring that it was completely okay with you before doing so.

Fingers traced over your hips and across your ribs through your uniform shirt. Even through the material, you felt his simulated touch eliciting chills across your stomach and arms. He smirked a bit at the way the small hairs there stood up.

“Can I touch your skin?” he asked, his eyes finding yours. You nodded in response.

At your immediate consent, he took no time in easing the hem of your shirt out from beneath your skirt. The tucked-in material had created indentations along your flesh from pressing into it all day. His fingers traced along the swirls of marks across your hips.

His hot skin on yours was nearly too much to handle—you swore you felt your knees buckle.

After the initial shyness of skin-on-skin, you could feel Theo’s hands splay wide on either side of your hips and move across your abdomen and all the way to the back. His fingers brushed across the strap of your bra just as a raging heat split your stomach in two.

“Can I?” he asked. Of course, you nodded.

With a second set of permissions, he felt even bolder. He sucked in a strong breath and, with quick and intense movements, brought his hands out from beneath your shirt and began to unfasten the buttons.

With each button he pulled open, he placed a hot kiss to the skin revealed. Your breaths came in deep heaves, your chest lurching towards him pathetically.

His tongue brushed over the cleavage split evenly by the pressure of your bra. With your chest nearly completely revealed to him, Theo’s eyes darkened severely.

His eyes found yours again. The two of you regained consciousness for only a moment to realize where you were and what you were doing, before you clasped your hands around his head and pulled his mouth to yours.

With a fiery desire, he slipped his hands beneath your thighs and, with subtle clumsiness, lifted you off the floor just enough to push you up against the stone wall in the corner.

A shy moan slipped from between your lips at the feeling of your body trapped in between him and the wall.

His lips devoured yours like a man starved. He drank up every drop of saliva granted by each slide of your tongue along his, never wasting a single bit. His hands gripped at you mercilessly—at your hips, your chest, your ass. It wasn’t long before your shirt was completely unbuttoned and slid messily down your shoulders and your shoes slipped off and kicked somewhere into the corner.

As the two of you took a moment to breath, noses pressed to each other and breaths intermingling, Theo contemplated his next moves.

“I want to take care of you,” he heaved, a bead of sweat sliding down his sharply detailed throat.

“Please… have me as you will,” you whined, hardly able to stand being away from him in these few seconds.

The sounds of your begging did nothing but urge him forward, cutting through every strap of restraint he may have still had. He fucking loved it.

“Let me make you feel good,” he whispered.

He slid his finger down across your neck, tightening his grip just barely around your throat, then sliding them down across your breasts. He kneaded the sore tissue there, reveling in the way your lips parted at the feeling.

His fingers slid over the metal clasp that sat squarely between your breasts, shining in the firelight, waiting for him to separate it.

Before touching your chest any further, he wrapped his hands around your thighs once more and wrapped them around his waist, balancing you against the wall behind you.

His fingers then returned to their post at your bra and effortlessly split the clasp. The pressure of your breasts popped the fabric apart, quickly revealing your chest to the boy before you.

He moaned at the sight of your gorgeous chest and could not resist from placing his lips around each nipple, swirling his tongue around them perfectly. Your head fell back against the wall, your hands clutching at this hair, your legs wrapped around his body.

“You’re so perfect—gonna make you feel so good,” he mumbled.

His hands and lips reluctantly separated from your chest and pulled you away from the wall for just a moment. He walked you over to the recession in the wall where the windowsill waited for your body weight.

The drapes were pulled together but you imagined that you wouldn’t be so angry if they weren’t.

Theo set you down against the cool stone and slid your hips against him.

With no regard for what you were going to do for your next day of classes, he roughly split your tights to reveal the bottoms beneath.

He let out a moan at the sight of you—you were better than he’d ever imagined.

Flipping your skirt up, he traced a single, trained finger over the slit of fabric covering the most sensitive part of your body. You let out a wavering moan at the sensation, gripping onto his shoulders tightly.

“Please, Theo, no more teasing,” you groaned, sliding your hips closer to his. The motion pressed your core against his, creating a type of friction that was more than delicious. The both of you paused and shuddered against each other’s mouth.

If Theo had any restraint left in his body, it was this that destroyed it.

He slid a finger beneath the material of your bottoms and slid them to the side, revealing you to the cool air. You shuddered a bit at the feeling, not prepared for the sudden change in temperature.

He traced his fingers along your folds again, collecting slicks of moisture along them. You could barely keep up with his pace, not sure whether to moan or cry or beg for more.

Once soaked enough, he slid a finger into you, allowing you to stretch around it. You cried out to the night air, clutching at his shirt like you might slip away from this world if he kept easing you open just as he was.

There were blinks of time where he’d slip another finger in just beside the other, stretching you farther than you’d ever been before, but you could hardly grasp where you were in time and space. All you could feel, think, smell, hear, taste was Theodore Nott.

When years had passed and he’d built you up to your climax twice already, he decided that he was ready to give you all of him.

The layer of sweat across your body and cloud of exhaustion that plagued your mind seemed to be no obstacle for a still very wired Theo. He was ready to fuck himself into you until you were begging for mercy. He’d been waiting for this for years.

“Turn over for me, sweetheart,” he said lovingly, a stark contrast to the brutality with which he’d worked you apart.

Slow-moving from exhaustion but still eager for more of his touch, you forced yourself onto your stomach. Your hands gripped onto the drapes for some sense of purchase—hopefully they wouldn’t collapse down around the two of you, revealing both of your bodies to the world.

When the rustling of his clothing and the clinking of his belt hit your ears, the entire lower half of your body twinged in anticipation. You gasped lowly as his hands slipped beneath your skirt, slowly smoothing his fingers over the fabric of your bottoms before gripping them and sliding them down your legs.

He allowed you to step out of them before he pushed you back up against the stone and slid himself across your entrance. You sucked in a breath sharply at the sensation, your fingers digging into the canvas drapes so tightly they burned white around the knuckles.

One hand gripped your bare hips while the other slowly guided himself into you all the way to the hilt. The slow stretch he had provided you before was nothing compared to the fire burning below now. Your eyes clenched shut, bursts of tears slipping down your cheeks.

“Breathe, bella,” he groaned softly as he allowed you to adjust while refraining from going as fast and as hard as he could.

It took only a moment before you asked him to move, and begged him to claim you fully. And then he was controlling every inch of what you received, ruthlessly, yet lovingly.

The silence of the room was filled with his breathless groans, your stuttering words, and the force of his hips hitting yours. You’d hardly be able to stand if it weren’t for his strong hands holding your hips up, keeping you just where he wanted you for each force of his hips.

With each passing second, you found your grip on the fabric above you becoming weaker and your ability to hold yourself up diminishing. With the pace he’d set, you’d be finishing any minute and he knew it.

And by the way his speed stuttered every so often and his hands gripped onto the fabric of your skirt, you figured he couldn’t be far behind you.

Your naked breasts lightly scraped against the stone with every push from behind, rubbing the sensitive skin just enough to push you over your edge and crash within yourself. You cried out from the force of the pleasure that hit you.

As soon as you had managed to finish against him, the tightening of your muscles tipped him over the cliff side he stood atop, forcing him to the waves below.

He worked himself through his climax before slowing to a stop and collapsing against you. The sweat on your skin mingled together, creating a hot seal between your bodies. You could hardly catch your breath between the windowsill pressed against you and the strong man behind you.

“Theo,” you whined. “Get off…”

He responded with a huff and a moment’s silence, before pushing off of you. Your skin separated with a sticky pull.

He gently pulled you away from the window, slid your messed skirt down and helped you slide into your bed. He slid in next to you for just a moment.

“I think I’m about to pass out and sleep for the next 48 hours,” you chuckled lazily.

“Would you say I gave enough of myself?” he smirked, brushing a strand away from your forehead.

“I’d say it was more than enough,” you said, rolling your eyes at his confidence.

“Well, I’m yours anytime you want me.” He pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead, before getting to his feet and beginning to redress.

“No,” you fussed. “Why are you leaving?”

“Because it’s the middle of the day and I’m missing my classes,” he laughed, tightening his belt back to its proper place.

“I am too—just skip with me today,” you begged.

“No, darling, I’ve got to get back to class. I’ve got too many assignments due today. I’ll let them know you won’t be making it in today, though.”

“What are you going to tell them if they ask?” you asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Mm, I’ll let them know that you had a rough morning and you’re gonna sleep it off.”

He smirked meanly before slipping through the dorm door and leaving you in silence, bundled up in your bed and nearly too tired to even try and get ready for classes.

One day off wouldn’t be too big of a deal.

- - -

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[riansdiary]

IT ALREADY HAPPENED! MANIFESTATION IS NOT A PROCESS! IT'S DONE THE MOMENT YOU DECIDE YOU HAVE IT!

Manifestation is instant. The 3d is only waiting for your validation. You just have to accept that your desire is now yours and tell yourself that it is instant and manifestation is NOT a process.

I have Taylor Tookes to thank today for awakening me from being pulled into the whirlpool of programming again that you need to work hard or that manifestation is a process and that you need to affirm to make the reflection change when all we need to do is to fully accept that we have our desires now.

IT 👏 ALREADY 👏 HAPPENED 👏

What would you think if you have it now? Think as if it already happened and not for changing the reflection. That's the key for me. It's not making manifesting a process and affirming like crazy until you get it.

YOU GET IT WHEN YOU DECIDE THAT YOU HAVE IT NOW. YOU HAVE THE INNER KNOWING THAT IT'S YOURS AND IT'S DONE. YOU'RE NOT WAITING FOR ANYTHING! THE 3D IS JUST WAITING FOR YOU TO ACCEPT THAT IT'S YOURS AND TO VALIDATE YOURSELF.

You shouldn't be concerned about the 3d when you manifest because literally all you ever need to do is to accept that it's yours, think that it already happened because if you say that it did then it happened already!

Perfect example of this is the scene in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's/Philosopher Stone.

It was when Harry was getting the stone from the Mirror of Erised. His deepest desire was to see his parents and not to use the stone so the mirror gave it to him and he saw it happening in the mirror. The mirror was set to give the stone to someone who wants to find the stone and not to use it. He then felt the stone in his pocket and he got it.

This is how manifesting is but let me explain to you how.

The mirror of Erised = imagination/knowing you have it and it already happened

The 3d = the reality where Harry was

Sorcerer's/Philosopher's Stone = your desire

All you really need to manifest is decide what you want, decide that you have it now (it already happened), you fully accept and know that it's done and you get your desire because you said so.

YOU 👏 ARE 👏 THE 👏 VALIDATION! AND NOT THE 3D. THE 3D WAITS FOR YOU TO ACCEPT IT AND IT REFLECTS THAT.

You do not focus all your attention on the 3d when manifesting. You don't even have to do techniques except to affirm naturally like it already happened (think as if) and remind yourself every now and then. Have that inner knowing that you have this thing now because you decided so! Know it's done now. You could literally just affirm it is done or it already happened or it's already done and you're set!

There's nothing that says 3d in that because changing the 3d is not your job. Plus forget about it, it's not included in manifestation because once again...

IT 👏 IS 👏 JUST 👏 AN 👏 EFFECT 👏 OF 👏 YOUR 👏 MANIFESTATION 👏

The cause is you deciding you have it now and fully accepting that and not waiting for it. Let me stress on another important thing:

AFFIRM 👏 OR 👏 THINK 👏 THAT 👏 IT 👏 ALREADY 👏 HAPPENED 👏

NOT YOU AFFIRMING TO GET OR TO MAKE SOMETHING HAPPEN.

Trust me, this is coming straight from my experience cause I did that and it is just focusing on lack and the old story and being desperate when it is supposed to be simple and easy. We have complicated this long enough.

Your job is deciding what you want and accepting that it's yours now. Knowing that it's done.

I found Taylor's videos to be helpful and she woke me up from making it a process. I truly wanna recommend her or Hyler because they're both helping me right now to understand even better.

I was testing this while I was listening to Taylor's "I don't agree with checking the 3d" video, I made YouTube float on the screen while I played Roblox Tower of Misery.

I said it naturally and not for the purpose of making something happen, rather in the mindset of it already happened.

I said in my mind "Omg someone bought immunity? That's great. Thank you." I said it like it already happened and I fully accepted that it's done.

I knew it was done and yes it happened a few seconds after I said that. Does that make it a process? No. It's just an effect of me knowing it was done. It's just the 3d conforming but I already knew it happened so I was not surprised at all. This is how manifesting is supposed to be and I know this will help a lot of people.

I'm posting this short post about it because that is all you need. I don't wanna complicate this simple law any further. That's it and let me remind you again:

It already happened.

[tarotbyjam24]

Pick a card :What do people say about you at back of you ?

Disclaimer: this is general reading . It may or may not resonate . If reading doesn't resonate let it fly and choose another pile or simply there were no messages for you through this reading 😊 Take the reading lightly as nothing's set in stone until you believe so 🕊️

I also offer paid readings you can book one as it'll help me a lot and don't forget to check the free readings offer ✨

Masterlist \pick a cards feedbacks piggy bank

pile 1 pile 2 pile 3

This reading has been in my drafts since Feb 3 NGL this pac sucked whole energy out of me :)

Pile 1

Ace of swords reverse Six of pentacles King of swords Three of cups reverse King of cups reverse

Right off you give they ate and left no crumbs energy to people. You can be the most sarcastic person ever but plus point is that you've calm personality lol . You are person who likes to be private and not put your nose into other's matters . You don't like to have cloudy thinking for yourself and because of others . You may even think that what's the point of giving off my energy to others when it doesn't even matter to them . You're not type of person who cries or gets for their lover after breakup . You give yourself solace and say that happened for my and their best , for better things coming towards us and to become the better versions of ourselves. You're big on LESSONS LEARNT AND MOVE ON ENERGY. You take the rest and nurture needed while prepping for your next hit . You're also always in constantly moving energy . You don't like static-ness in your life .

I'll say you have this giving energy to you but you don't like it to give to wrong persons . You only give your kindness , help to those which are indeed in need like you can't be easily get scammed by people for your kindness . You know how is real and who is faking the cry for help. You also own this aura to yourself which attracts people to you . You come off as open minded person and someone who has a great sense of discernment too . Annd if somebody has won your heart not saying romantically but in generally probably like a cute kid smiled at you you will just want to shower that kid with all the love you have and with everything their parents allow you to haha . You're genuinely kind but don't wanna take advantage of it that's why you put this cold demeanor to you through your outfits and facial expressions . Sometimes you may also do partiality with people and don't think about end results that much .

People say that deep down you may feel bad for others and cry silently about it when noone is watching you . You've this lover energy to you which makes you want to be close with other's but then you remember ohh you're meant to be alone and cold . Cancel this plan of being with someone I must enjoy my loneliness. People also say that you live and love a life with structure. You can't function with life's flow . You need strategic planning beforehand . My advice is to loosen up a bit and leave the diploma in micromanagement. I get your desired to be at top in everything but then again doesn't it feel too lonely up there ? Ofc if you like it then strive for it but if you find someone in midway your goals don't shove them off . Take them with you and you both will make the path your goals more wonderful than it ever was . People also love your striking confidence I don't care if you fake it or if it's real . The tea is that people are in awe with your confidence. And they also love your walk and talks of confidence.

A homebody reading this pile ? Hello 👋🏻 from another homebody . People also talk about how you not socialise very much and keep it limited and only to your closed ones but that's too limited too . You just don't like noises and the word PARTY . You may have grown without anybody around you whether emotionally or physically but it's the reason you don't like to connect with others and makes you least socialistic. People say you're typa person who is prolly journalling at home with a wine or champagne glass alone in their bed with some coloured lights dimmed off . People also talk about how you also don't have many photos or like being lowkey if you're out somewhere. My celebrity pile 1 connect and enjoy with people!! They all love your vibes and you as a person too .

People definitely want to socialise with you . You literally have high reputation among all of them. I get your tactics pile 1 , acting mysterious to get more attention and catching people's curiousity about what you're always upto . Pile 1 can have water and air elements dominance in their charts. People also love and talk about how you're always educating yourself on new topics, knowing it all and enlightening others . You all always hold the best convos out there cuz you always have so much you know to talk and share about . Your body language definitely oozes out very welcoming aura to others . You have great control over speech too you know when and what to speak . Every move of yours is CALCULATIVE! You always got plan B for every situation lol . That's all pile 1 I hope you loved the reading .

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Pile 2

4 o pentacles 9 o cups reverse Page o pentacles reverse 5 o wands 10 o cups reverse Knight o pentacles

People talk about how you don't rely over money and how materialistic things can't make you happy . You don't even care about positions in your career if something is paying you enough to let you live off your daily needs . You don't chase over things . You either detach or attract them towards yourself. You believe in inner security and don't like to show off infront of others . You always look calm infront of others . You may also like to hold close on your loved ones and things you own , wanting to keep them infront of your eyes always .

People talk about how you went through so much emotional turmoil they may have held on your original potential of what you could have achieved. This pile seems so much mature to me . So many people have turned their back upon you , you faced so many closed doors and sadness but what people say is that it only made you strong minded and willed . You may have also learnt how to protect yourself physically too . People talk about your opposite personality a lot . You haven't showed you 'REAL SELF ' to them so they have lots of opinions and rumors on what you come off to them. Some think you're lucky person too and how you always get things easily because that's how you decided to appear infront of them .

They talk about how you don't interact with others . You all give off heavy melancholic vibes . Okayyy so people on street may talk about your fashion pile 2 y'all have such a perfect dressing sense . Show off your wardrobe to everyone . You give off polar bear vibe to everyone . Icy , resilient, strong , independent, a minimalist who don't like heaps of people or things , a person who like cleanliness , calm and collected . Not everyone can survive on poles but you did and do ! I'll say you're quite competitive with others and to yourself too . You don't like your old self you're always evolving into something new . You don't want to stuck in same old places forever and you're okay with moving on alone if that benefitting you. For thriving you want to have healthy competition that's what keeps you going in life and not loose the interest.

People think that you see your family , friends and relatives as distraction. You are actually so soft pile 2 and you don't wanna break off that shell you built for long time and get in comfort zone just to get uncomfortable back again . I also feel most of you reading this pile can be highschoolers , ,in college or trying to land a job interview. You've this mindset 'its okay to be uncomfortable but not being comfortable to get uncomfortable again ' 😭😭 and I relate to it way too much.

You're actually very loyal and if you ever make connections with someone you intend to make it last forever not just keep it superficial. You believe in quality instead of quantity. And you're the ride and die friend. People believe that your story have a good ending and it's not always will be melancholic for you . You feel like park hyung sik from burried hearts who risked his life to get where he wanted to and even gave up on his lover . He had enough money but didn't had the support and emotional bonding with others which he longed for but didn't had time to do so . That's all pile 2 I hope you enjoyed the reading .

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Pile 3

The emperor 3 o wands 5 o wands reverse King o swords reverse Ace o pentacles

Okay pile 3 , you're everyone's inspiration , you come off as rich person to everyone doesn't need to be materialistic one but it can be like your are very secure in yourself and don't need anyone to compare yourself with . Wherever you're in your life you're pretty much satisfied with it . You're the go with life's flow person. You are also very structured person too . You need routines in your daily life to keep going on . People talk about how strong minded person you are and how you can do anything you out your mind on . You don't care about time too because it feels limiting to you . You want to live off limits which makes you comfortable with doing whatever you want to do and your only goal is to reach there you don't wanna be worried with this superficial human made time . You're also very passionate and I'll say your mind is iron like strong noone can change it if you put your mind on to something. People say that you have said many goodbyes probably your friends and family keep moving out and you never got a permanent house too which you could call a home so I'll say that you're pretty adaptable and you are good at making connections too , such a good talker you're . Your talks are always in controlled manner , have good control over speech , feels like your speech is full of richness and maturity your tone makes it feel like that .

People may also come to you for taking gardening tips you can have your little garden at your home which means so much to you and the care you pour into it is always talked about among the people like how you manage water level , manure ,etc when you're away from your house . You're seen as compassionate , someone who focuses of themselves only and don't usually care about people around them 'self focused ' your back is also something to talk about haha you may have sleek back or prolly venus dimples too that when people see they goo crazyy. Your back is like a whole scenery people feel happy after watching it . Since we're on physical trait that people talk about I'd like to add another one that is your sweaty face and hairs . It's so sexyyy y'all 🎀 people may even cum because of that 😭 y'all are way too photogenic too !!! People love taking photos with you as if you're a celebrity your poses are always unique. You may have Aquarius placements.

People also talk about how clear your decisions always are and how you don't get confused with many options . You know it is for you if it catches your eye and rest other options don't matter at all then . You may like to play a lot with words . You're literal 'pen is mighter than sword ' version of human . Your actions are subtle everything action you take there's always something behind it that people may usually not know . You're the looks like cinamon roll but will ki*l you and that's so hawwwt . Your connections at work or in general is something to be talked about you may have many friends which are in different different fields and which basically opens path for you in many places . You like to have people who are career oriented cuz they help you grow and level up too . Your network matters to you a lot and people like your innovative ideas because they're most of the times commissionable . Thank you for reading pile 3 . I hope you enjoyed the reading.

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I hope you liked the reading . Thank you so much for letting me read for you . Wishing you best ahead . 🎀Bless you and have a nice day

Loads of love , jam

[eumivrse]

BE NATURAL : nanami kento

warning(s) breeding, creampie, mentions of pregnancy, shower sex, spanking, slight hair pulling, biting, a little degradation, reader & nanami are married, aftercare

word count 3,844

author’s note cuz nanami is the master at fucking you senseless then taking care of u after :,)

you aren’t sure what pissed him off, all you know is that kento came home already pent up.

you came out of your shared bedroom with nothing but a towel on— being on your way to take a shower— but you heard the anticipated click! of the door, which naturally made you wanna greet the love of your life. he hooked his finger in to the back of his loafers to take them off, meticulously placing them back on the shoe rack next to the front door. he hadn’t noticed you at this point and something about the underlying tension is stopping you from greeting him with your usual cheer.

after all, it’s rare for him to not acknowledge you considering that you’re his first priority to kiss and hug as soon as he opens the door to your humble abode.

his eyes aren’t visible from the specs he often wears for work, rotating his neck to unravel his tie, wrapping it around his palm as he walked towards the kitchen. he placed his glasses and silk tie down on the quartz counter and he finally took notice of you, walking up towards you without saying anything before resting his forehead on your shoulder.

“what’s wrong?” you lace your fingers through his hair, trying to comfort him, an arm around his back. your husband is never particularly emotional, but at times, there’s days like these where he comes home fatigued like he just fought a war or something.

he sighs, “work.” you give the back of his head small pats, trying to comfort him as best you can.

you ponder, offering, “what about we take a shower together then you can sleep it off? sounds good doesn’t it?” prying about his day will just worsen his stress so you decide to keep any potential questions to yourself. plus, you honestly just wanted to take a shower after a long day of errands, so you’re hitting two birds with one stone.

his meager “mm” in response was enough said.

—

you turn the knob, cold water drizzling out of the shower head. holding your hand out to check the water’s heat, you watch as kento was getting ready to undress, popping out the buttons from his signature blue linen top one by one. he slipped off of it, folding it neatly before placing it on the sink counter. he then slips off his wedding band and sets it on top of his clothes.

you had seen his bare body an ungodly amount of instances, but you never fail to just stare… it’s truly glorious. his broad shoulders along with his subtle six pack, not to mention his arms that you wouldn’t mind being suffocated with. he noticed your darting gaze when he unbuckled his belt and instead of panicking, you just shoot him a meek smile, unaware that the water pooling on your hand is already warm, apparent by the moist on the shower glass.

“baby, i think the water is ready.” he chuckles and you snap out of it, quickly unwrapping the towel around you and getting in the spacious shower. he followed shortly after, and closed the door behind him.

your intentions were innocent, really just wishing to ease your husband’s exhaustion, but kento had something else in mind.

he didn’t think about it until the soap suds trickling down your boobs and ass was seriously turning him on for some reason. you asked if he could put soap on your back because you couldn’t reach well, and of course he obliged. it’s crazy because he’d seen you naked more times than he could imagine, but something about today just made you so desirable.

when you turned around to slather soap on his body, you paused when you noticed that he’s staring at you so blankly. like you were a problem he couldn’t simply figure out. while you were distracted with his cold gaze, he takes the soap from your hand and puts it back in its respective place.

always so thorough, you know just how much he loathed making a mess.

he’s a taller man than you are, requiring you to crane your neck up to see him eye to eye. he guides his fingers to take ahold of your chin gently before tapping at your cheek with a bit of force, enough that it hurt.

“honey, what-“

before you could even finish, your face was smashed against the cold shower glass, kento’s chest trapping you in between him and the wall. you gasped in complete surprise, trying to turn your head to look at him, but he just turned your chin back towards the glass. though you didn’t mind whatsoever, it’s a rare sight to see kento so… aggressive with you, you didn’t even expect it since he came home weary and expected him to sleep it off right after this.

he whispers softly, lips against the shell of your ear, a hand grabbing ahold a chunk of your hair. “no talking unless i tell you to.” while keeping a tug on your locks, his fingers had already sneaked in between your legs, in which you spread in compliance. he pressed the pad of his finger against the bud of your clit, rubbing it ever so slightly. you yelped, palms backed against the glass that you’re being pushed against.

the water trickled down your cunt and on his fingers as he swiped your clit in tight and precise circles to get you aroused. your mind was already going stark, hazed with the thought of what he’s capable of when he’s in this state of mind. his teeth dug into the skin of your shoulders, trailing his bites up to the side of your neck. there was absolutely no way these weren’t going to bruise tomorrow, the pain on your neck mixed in with his fingers sliding into you so suddenly leaving you no choice but to curse out loud.

“fuck, kento- ah-“ the immediate slap on your ass when he specifically told you to not speak left your jaw hanging open. you felt like you were being tossed around with how rough you’re being treated, but you weren’t going to lie: you’re enjoying it to the fullest.

one hand went up to squeeze your breast, threatening to slip out in between his fingers from the silky water, the pitter patter of the shower masking the lewd noises of your cunt. he pinches your nipple, rolling it in between his fingers, and you gasp sharply, breathing heavily.

he rasps, “do you like it when you’re being treated like this, hm?” his voice was low and sultry, tongue grazing up your ear, with you shivering from his warm tongue juxtaposed with the shower’s humidity.

you whimper, “yes, i love it… ‘need more” the desperation lingering in your voice made his cock twitch, if he wasn’t already hard before, he’s definitely throbbing now, a bead of pre seeping out of the slit of his tip. kento knelt down on the tiles, using his huge bulky hands to spread your ass cheeks apart. your pussy glistened with slick, lips puffy, just asking to be devoured.

squirming, you arch your back to give him better access, kento licking his lips then sticking his tongue out to lick a stripe from your clit to in between your drenched folds.

he nuzzled his face in between your ass, lips smacking against the wet heat of your cunt, the tip of his tongue poking on your dripping hole. your moans were bouncing off the thin walls of the glass, kento only encouraging it by teasing your poor little clit with his finger while he feasted in between your legs.

his palms were gripped on your plush ass, massaging them to alleviate the tension out your body from his manhandling. to say that you were struggling to not curse or moan his name was an understatement. you were practically choking on your words, whines that nearly passed as sobs drifting past your lips. kento pulls out for a moment to take a breather, watching a glob of his saliva dripping from your pussy down on the tiles beneath him.

pushing you a few inches away from the wall, he positioned himself so that he could see your pussy from the front. “you taste so fucking sweet, doll.” he slid two fingers inside your hole, velvety walls immediately clenching around them, appreciating every crevice of his thick digits. “pretty pussy so wet f’me,” he reveres in between licks on your clit, each time sending shivers down your spine. he’s babbling at this point, just saying anything in his mind which isn’t in character for him. you’re usually the vocal one, but having him do the talking for once is doing nothing but turning you on— enough that you’re already pushed on the brink of orgasm.

his fingers plunged in with ease, and so far up that it quickly reached your sweet spot, that blended in with the warm muscle of his tongue jostling up against your clit had the corner of your mouth dribbling with saliva. you rock your hips on his face, an attempt on getting yourself off, however he strikes your ass for doing so, harsh enough that you could still feel the sting even minutes after.

he rasps, “do that again and you’re not cumming tonight. would you like that, hm?” you screamed when he smacked your ass again, his fingers plugged inside you never faltering in speed.

you whisper, voice barely capable of spitting out coherent sentences, “no… ‘m sorry kento. i’ll be good.” being unable to discern whether it’s tears trickling down your cheeks or the water from the pouring shower, you just moan in helplessness, cheek resting against the cool glass wall.

a point came where his digits were just in too deep in your poor cunt and his teasing tongue was leaving your clit swollen that you couldn’t hold it anymore. “oh fuck, can’t- i’m- ah—!” a warm stream of fluid dripped down your thigh, your husband licking up every last drop of your slick, kissing your clit one more time before standing back up, this time behind you.

he bit your lower back and dug his teeth up to your neck, leaving you with a trail of love bites. it felt as if he was gnawing at your skin, holding onto your forearm and pinning on your back before he nibbled on your earlobe. you were still coming down from your orgasm, legs trembling, ass cheek marred with the print of his palm. you turn your head, where you meet his eyes. the moment you felt his lips pressed against yours, you immediately succumbed back into his touch.

despite his ravening demeanor, his lips were so gentle as they brushed over yours, his tongue slithering in your mouth as soon as you gasped when he slapped his tip against your sensitive clit. he lets go of your bounded arm and from the corner of your eye, you notice his hand press over the wall, the other guiding his tip, resting his fat cock in between your plush walls. “do me a favor and let me know how good you’re feeling, okay?” he teases, poking the head of his dick against your drooling hole.

“just fuck me already.” you plead, screeching when he pushed his lenght past your hole, pussy squeezing onto him for dear life. he didn’t even hesitate, didn’t even ask if you were holding up okay like he usually does in his loving husband way. but to be fair, he was just heeding to your request.

he groaned when he thrusts into you to the hilt, taking both of your wrists with only one hand to pull you back slightly to reel you in deeper, while the other trapped you in between the sheer glass wall, now completely fogged with humidity.

it seemed like he was taking his time, basking in the warm feeling of finally being inside of you, holding still for a few seconds to appreciate his wife’s snug cunt. after for what seemed like a good minute, he pulled out, then rammed back in, leaving your mouth dangling wide, the slight upper curve of his cock having no hard time to prod onto your squishy g-spot.

“my god, kento… fuck.” you giggled, partly because you’re amused at how multidimensional your husband is despite being together for so many years and also because that hit the spot.

literally.

without a word, he was quick to thrust out and back in, each with a slightly deeper stroke, making your mind go in circles, ass bouncing against his lower abs. you felt like his tip was trying to poke through your abdominal walls with the way you’re arched, wrists gripped back with just his firm hand. the shower was too fucking hot, you can quite literally feel the condensation getting thicker, the sound of the water spraying onto your bodies muffled in your hearing.

he grunts your name, following with a string of curses, “fuck, fuck, fuck… hah—“ the clapping sound of his pelvis slamming up against your feeble body was enough to get him off, fucking into you in a vigorous pace for a few seconds before keeping himself plugged into you, making your whole body jolt forward, boobs pressed against the shower wall. it was all starting to hurt— you felt like putty, yet you couldn’t help but crave more. “kento,” you wince, yelping at the sensation of being so full of just him.

kento lets go of your wrists, so sore as if they were wrung like a damp towel. he pulls out, turning you by the forearm and takes a good look at your face after not being able to do so this whole time.

he’s always so adamant about how he hates clutter. in the years you’ve been married you’ve never seen his office messy no matter how busy or stressed he might be. even the way he gets ready in the morning and how he decompresses before bed is structured.

but with you? oh god, he absolutely strives for it. the mess. the nastiness of it all. your beautiful body adorned with his markings to remind everyone who owns you.

yes, he’s reserved. probably won’t even say anything brash when you tell him about the occasional times you get hit on when you’re out without him, but there’s no doubt that he's territorial. once in a while, he plants a little something on you to show everyone that you’re taken.

you’re just too oblivious to realize why he does it.

he strokes your cheek with the side of his index finger, then lifts your chin to force you to make eye contact. your eyes are glazed over, throat strained with nothing in that little head of yours besides his name and your animalistic desire to get fucked dumb. “i wanna see your face when you cum, is that okay?” he’s much more mellow now than minutes prior, gently rubbing your cheekbone with his thumb.

your mind is empty, responding with a frail “mhm”. you cup his cheek, leaning onto your tippy toes to give him a soft peck on the lips. he smiles tenderly, kissing your forehead before he lifts one of your legs by the back of your knee, leaving your pussy wide open. your wrap your hand around his cock, feeling the ridges of the protruding vein rubbing against your palm as you pump him.

“baby…” he moans, nestling his face in the crook of your neck, pressing his lips on each bite mark littered all over your upper neck and shoulders. you lead his cock back in between your slit, sliding him up and down for lubrication before slipping him back inside you, kento hissing from the tingling feeling of his dick being swallowed whole by your pussy.

your nails claw onto his shoulder blades, as he slammed his pelvis against yours, one hand keeping your waist locked while the other pried your leg open. you glance down to see the work being done on you, huffing when you used two of your fingers to frantically rub at your clit. you watch as his cock slid into you so swiftly, how your tight cunt was so welcoming for him. you see how flexed your husband’s abs are from having to thrust into you so precisely, eyes wandering up to his flushed chest then his brown eyes.

it’s funny because you were simultaneously watching how good he’s deliciously stretching you out amidst the moans and curses under your breath, resulting in a quick exchange of chuckles. “it’s turning me on. watching it, you- you know?” you stutter, followed by a little whimper when you feel that familiar knot in your stomach.

“nn- ‘love it when my princess feels good.” there were so many other things in mind that he wanted to say; how sexy you look while being fucked and how he wishes he could record your face so he could masturbate to it on nights he can’t go home due to a work trip, but kept quiet. you’re too sarcastic to let him get away with saying something so crass, honestly, he was a bit surprised that you even put up with his bullshit when he was slapping you around like some whore.

he pauses for a second, wrapping your leg that he was holding onto around his waist and he pulls on your other, signaling for you to hop on his arms.

you softly retaliate, setting your hand over his, “kento, i’m not light.”

“are you underestimating me?” you should’ve known he wouldn’t have taken no for an answer either way since he forced your other leg around him, your whole weight hanging on his waist. you were hesitant about this, mainly because you didn’t feel comfortable having him carry you, but then all your worries wore off when he squeezed your thighs for reassurance.

“i got you, baby.” he kisses your cheek. you had your arms around his neck, face a few inches from his. the veins from his forearm were prominent as he kept a bruising grip on your thighs.

you mumble, “you’re so deep,” swearing you could feel him in the pit of your stomach. he uses your thighs to propel himself in and out, and he turns around and pins you against the tile wall for a change of scenery. he felt so warm, his tender embrace all while your eyes rolled to the back of your head, chin rested on his shoulder. slight embarrassment rushed through your cheeks when you saw the moist shower glass printed with your boobs and your as well as kento’s hands.

your nasty moans so close up his ear only provided him with more stamina, his hips moving endlessly with the intent of drawing out another orgasm out of you.

nails digging on his back, you yelp, “kento, ‘need to cum.” you use the last bit of your strength to warn him, body manipulated by him, unable to buck your hips.

he pants in between sloppy thrusts, the water sloshing against his thigh as he slammed himself into you, “yes, yes, yes, cum for me, my pretty girl.” he’s mumbling sweet nothings as you let yourself release, eyes closed shut while nearly screaming his name, ultimately pushing him straight at his own high.

“ah fuck yeah,” he grits his teeth, stuffing you full of his hot, viscous cum. he waits a few seconds before pulling out, savoring in the few minutes of pure heaven that you gave him.

kento lets you loose, a little pop! audible as his cock slid out, coated with cum. arms still wrapped around him, he clashes his forehead against yours. “i love you, kento.” you whisper with a dulcet tone.

he smiles, “i love you more,” taking you by the lips one more time, his hands massaging the plump of your waist. you could feel his seed pooling in your stomach, being so filled that some is seeping down your inner thigh.

you unclasped your arms and he turns the shower knob off, walking out to open the bathtub’s faucet. you raise your voice a tad so he could hear through the glass, “what are you doing?”

“starting us a bath, so we can relax before taking a proper shower” he shrugs, reaching towards the mirror cabinet to take one of the bath bombs you’ve been storing.

when the tub was filled, he quietly turned off the faucet and went back into the shower where he proceeded to soak off with you. you help each other clean up, kento placing soft kisses over your raw hickeys while you rinse the intimate parts of your body.

“sorry for hurting you, sweetheart. i should’ve asked before doing something like that.” he mutters in between pecks on your skin.

you reach your hand behind to rake your fingers through his golden locks, humming, “it’s okay… what about your back, though? i’m sure it stings.” you snuck a glance at it when he was turned around earlier and there were two long red streaks, the apparent traces of your nails. although, it wouldn’t be the first time his back would be full of scratches.

“don’t worry about it, it’s a reminder of our love.”

you scoff at his choice of words, “okay, whatever you say, mister. let’s put petroleum jelly on it later.” you’re never quite sure if he’s being real with you or if he’s trying to be funny, but you appreciate it either way.

after cleaning up, kento prepared some strawberries and wine to compliment your bath, placing the platter and the wine glasses on the wooden bathtub tray you purchased a while back, but never ended up using. you light up a candle while he takes off the towel he draped around his waist while fixing up the food. he takes one step on the tub to test the waters, then sits across from you.

you clink your glasses together and after a sip, you joke, “what if you actually got me pregnant this time?” you always kid about being pregnant and he usually pays no mind to it because you’re never serious, but the question struck him differently this time.

he places the glass back on the tray. “then you’re pregnant.” his stoic expression and dry tone almost made it comical.

you roll your eyes in response, “so you’re saying you don’t mind?” it wasn’t like you two weren’t trying, it just has never really been a big factor in your relationship. you wouldn’t be upset if you live the rest of your life with him without children, but at the same time you often imagine how it would be.

“well, i don’t think it’ll be a burden if it ends up happening. plus, i think it’s about time we start a family, don’t you think?” he takes a strawberry and holds it in front of you, in which you lean in to take a bite. you were really just joking, but the sincerity in his response warmed your heart. he never really gave you the impression of a family man, so you didn’t think he would comply so easily.

you swallow before sighing, “so do you think it’s a boy or a girl-“

“don’t push it.”

[callsign-rogueone]

burnout

bodhi durran x reader (darling!)

words: 1.0k

🏷️: set at the very end of iron flame, so IF spoilers, we never saw bodhi in the battle of Basgiath so here he is now, I guess you could consider this hurt/comfort? he isn’t hurt but is burnt out as the title suggests, sleepy clingy baby bo, marriage talk, the streets are saying it’s bodhi week, and while this doesn’t really fit any of the prompts, I’ve had it as a scrap for a while and decided to polish up and post it because he deserves to be taken care of and because I’ve been neglecting him 🥲

“Your mate has returned,” Sìoda announces. Your head turns immediately, eyes widening as you see Bodhi stumbling through the doors of the mess hall, which has now become an extension of the infirmary, with riders laid out on the tabletops or sitting on the floor, rags pressed against their noses or foreheads.

It takes him a second to spot you, and relief floods his body, his shoulders dropping.

He’s going to collapse.

You surge forward to catch him, lowering you both to the stone floor.

“Tired,” he mumbles, resting his cheek against your shoulder. You can feel the heat of his skin even through the material of your flight jacket — he’s burning up.

“I know, my love, I know, but I need you to stay awake for me,” you soothe, trying to keep the panic out of your voice. You pull his jacket open, looking for a gaping wound or some explanation for his exhaustion.

“He nearly burnt himself out,” Sìoda explains, relaying the message from Cuir, “But he is unharmed.”

You trust her, but you can’t risk it — you continue checking him over for any sort of injury, leaving no stone unturned. “I need you to tell me if anything hurts.”

“My head.”

You run a hand through his curls, checking for blood, but it’s not an easy task; his hair is damp with sweat and rainwater. You have to keep pulling back, looking at your palm for any sign of bleeding.

Bodhi just hums, leaning into your touch — he’s always loved you playing with his hair, and it’s the fastest way to get him to fall asleep, which really isn’t working in your favor here.

“Eyes open, honey. Keep talking to me, okay?”

“Okay,” he mumbles, blinking up at you slowly. “Gods, you’re pretty. I can’t believe that we’re married.”

“Me either, Bo. Me either.”

“I want to marry you for real, though. Wan’ a real ceremony n’ rings and everything. Already have… have my vows written out.”

“Someday,” you promise. “When all of this is over, and the continent is at peace.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Eyes open,” you prod again.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Just tired.”

“I know, honey. I am too. We’re going to take a long nap after this, but not yet, okay? I need to make sure that you aren’t hurt.”

He hums in acknowledgment, but you aren’t sure if he’s truly understanding you. Still, he lets you peel off his jacket and check him over for injury.

Nothing more than a bruise that you know is a few days old, from when he and Garrick got bored and decided to do… you still don’t know what exactly, but it probably wasn’t very smart. Boys will be boys.

“Alright. Let’s get you upstairs and showered, and then we can sleep.”

——————

As usual, your body wakes you up just before six — you don’t need the bells anymore.

There probably won’t be a formation this morning, with all the chaos, and the number of injured riders, plus the addition of the fliers, who aren’t really sorted into wings or sections, and the leadership changes; while nearly all of second wing had followed you to Aretia, the officers have elected a new wingleader to replace you. That’s going to be a really awkward conversation, but you really don’t want or need to have it today.

Bodhi is still asleep, his head resting on your chest. You work your fingers through his hair absentmindedly, letting your nails scratch lightly against his scalp. He hums appreciatively, moving to wrap his arms around your waist and nuzzle his cheek against your shoulder. “I just had the worst dream,” he mumbles. “We were back at school, n’ there were wyvern everywhere…”

Your heart aches. Of course that’s the conclusion he’d come to in his sleepy haze, that the last two days must have just been a bad dream, and that because you’re here together, cuddled up and safe in a comfortable bed, that you’re still at Riorson house.

“That wasn’t a dream, honey,” you say gently. “That all happened.”

He tenses, his eyes locking with yours. You don’t know what he remembers, but none of it was good, and he’d been separated from Xaden and Garrick…

“Everyone’s okay,” you soothe, still running your fingers through his curls. “We all made it through. You just overworked yourself a bit— you almost burnt out.”

That relaxes him a little, but he’s still not fully settled. “Are you okay?” He asks, sitting up and moving the covers, inspecting you for injury.

“I’m fine, Bo. Just some bruises.”

He finds them almost immediately, laying featherlight kisses to each of the three purple and brown marks. That seems to satisfy him, and he lays back down beside you, careful not to put pressure on them.

“You were cute last night. All mooney-eyed, asking me to marry you… like you were drunk.”

His cheeks warm. “It definitely felt like that.”

You can’t help but snort at the memory of him, Garrick, Liam, and Xaden, who had decided to raid Fen’s wine cellar on a warm summer evening, and each had a bit too much to drink. The other three had spent the night there, lying down to sleep on the stone floor, but Bodhi left to find you, and was incredibly clingy and kissy when he did.

Prying him off of you, and getting him fed and ready to sleep was a challenge, but the next morning, he was the only one of the four without a bad hangover.

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

“In sickness and in health, right?” you ask softly, fingertips tracing the smoke-like pattern of his relic.

“For better or worse,” he adds, his eyes catching yours.

The pair of you finish the vow in quiet unison. “For as long as we both shall live.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

could I request randomly shouting “floor is lava!” In front of the batboys? I’m in the mood for a crack fic

It was a dreary day within the Wayne manor and everyone was bored out of their minds. Nothing they did was enough to cure the boredom they were subjected to that day.

However a day of hope appeared before them in the form of you bursting through the door, holding a unbothered Alfred the cat in one hand and a confused Jerry the Turkey in the other, screaming: ‘THE FLOOR IS LAVA!’

Dick is pushed to the floor and stepped on by a mysterious assailant but manages to get up and use his acrobatic skills -cheat skills as Jason would like to call them- to project himself upwards to the expensive chandelier and clung on for dear life.

He was 100% safe.

Smug bastard and his cheat codes -Jason Tood, certified older brother hater aka the younger sibling.

Jason pushed dick onto the floor and step onto his back, somehow trips and lands flat on his face against the carpeted flooring. However he quickly recovers by picking himself back up and bolts towards the curtains instead, where he tries to cling onto them for dear life as the sound of fabric slowly ripping could be heard by everyone.

Jason was on a time limit before he was sent plummeting back to the floor and towards his second death. 39% survival rate.

Damian is the first of the bunch to move into action as he -somehow- managed to grab Titus in a feet of hidden strength fueld by adrenaline, throwing the Great Dane over his shoulder, and still found it within himself to then clamber up the book shelves in the library where he stayed to watch the chaos below him like he was god.

The bookshelves are wooden, it was only a matter of time before he and Titus would have to change to a different location. 50% survival rate. Titus is a good puppy.

Tim shuts the computer, sets it aside and follows Jason’s example by lying down on the floor and awaits his fate with a blank expression. ‘My time has come.’

0% survival rate, instant death but Tim don’t give two shits, he’s lived long enough.

Duke: poor lad is freaking out trying to find a good spot and settles with standing on the table with the janky leg as he was forced to continuously fight for his balance atop of it.

He’s lost too many times just to loose again. He hates floor is lava with a vengeance. 50% survival rate if he doesn’t fall off and looses his fight with the table.

Stephane: the mastermind behind the whole ordeal, cackles as she stays lounging on the plush sofa, sipping her drink unbothered by the consequences to come through the door.

50% survival rate, may drop lower if she tries to reach for her phone that she had left on the table where Duke was. She hadn’t thought this whole thing through admittedly.

Bruce Wayne: heard the chaos and went to see what was happening and sighs upon seeing his children, plus you, practically having destroyed the library over a stupid game.

He’s too old for this shit but ends up showing all of you up either way by standing atop of the stone mantle piece of the fireplace, menacingly.

10000% survival rate bc it’s Bruce Wayne.

[dannyriccsystem]

oscar having a crush on his sister’s best friend and asking her out, only to find out she’s had a crush on him ever since they were young

WHY DON’T YOU SIT RIGHT DOWN AND STAY AWHILE?

FORMULA ONE DRIVER X READER

Summary: Hattie’s closest friend seems to have a crush on her brother ^^

Warnings: Pure fluff, not proofread, Y/N usage

Featuring: Oscar Piastri x Sister’s BFF!Reader

FIRST OSCAR REQUEST, WHO ELSE CHEERED!

Cracking down on my requests today… Y’all are geniuses.

It started when they were young— Like, really young. Y/N and Hattie were attached at the hip since grade one, a pair of best friends who were damn near inseparable. By the time Y/N was thirteen, she had gained a spare key to the Piastri house, and was told by Nicole herself that she was “welcome anytime.”

She was close with the whole family, except two of them. Oscar Piastri, and his father Chris. The two of them were always out on their own, focusing on the legacy that Chris had set in stone for his son. It could have been any of them, sure. Eddie, May, Hattie… But Oscar had potential, and his father easily recognized that.

Nicole always described her singular son as “heartless.” Not in the mean way, either, but in the way where he lacked emotion and expression. It wasn’t weird to see him laugh or smile occasionally, but it definitely seemed unnatural for him. His passion came out when he was karting, that’s when Oscar truly shined.

Y/N remembered the exact day it blossomed. January 26th, 2016. The summer break in Australia was just finally beginning to come to an end, and that pre-school season high was hitting. That feeling where you’re both dreading and yearning your classes— On one hand, it’s a time to reconnect with friends. On the other, it’s a time to learn. Boring.

She was spending her last few days with Hattie, enjoying the time they had left before they barely saw each other. School days limited their time together to the weekends, and the occasional long break. After running around all day, enjoying their time in the Australian sun, Y/N went inside to use the bathroom.

Rather miraculously, she ended up in the eldest Piastri child’s bedroom. Her haste caused a silly mistake with the two rooms being found side by side. She was met with a bewildered Oscar, who was perched before his bed that adorned an open suitcase, packed full of clothes and other knickknacks.

“Oh, are you going somewhere?” Now seemed an odd time for a vacation. Plus, Hattie would have surely told her about whatever adventure her family was going on.

“No,” He replied curtly. He seemed to disregard her now, continuing with his packing. His lips were drawn into that typical expression— Blank and devoid of emotion. He didn’t seem sad nor happy. Just… There. “My dad and I are moving to the UK.”

He said it so casually, like it wasn’t a big deal. For just a moment she could see past that nonchalant facade as he turned his head away, one hand lifted to wipe his face. His voice gave away nothing, but she could tell he was trying to keep it together.

“Oh…” Unsure of what to say, she stood there silently. After regaining his composure, he began to zip up the suitcase. Y/N took a deep breath, fidgeting with her hands behind her back. “Well, uhm. I’ll… Miss you?” She could certainly have sounded more sure about it. It was phrased like a question.

He understood. They had only ever interacted briefly, and it was never one-on-one. Hattie was always there to guide the conversation, and the chatter never consisted of Oscar’s voice. Just his ears as he quietly listened. Nonetheless, he offered her a little smile. “Thanks.”

A beat of silence.

“I’ll miss you too.”

Y/N couldn’t explain why if she tried, but she carried those words with her permanently. Even as he moved away, and she stayed right where she was with everything she knew growing up, she clung onto those last few words. I’ll miss you too.

What she didn’t realize was that he was doing the same. He grew into his personality, shifting from that careless kid into an adult with a good sense of compassion. He was charming and lovable, his career pushing him into the limelight of school. There were various opportunities to move on and build a new relationship. It seemed like every time he turned a corner there was someone waiting for him with a confession in hand. And it seemed that after every corner, he left someone heartbroken.

When Oscar came to visit, it was weird. Y/N was still there, of course, occupying the space she always had. He felt like he wasn’t going to fit back in, like maybe his family had grown so much without him that they had learned to fill the barren hole, but every single time he found himself welcomed with open arms.

Much like the rest of his family, Y/N was there to celebrate the move into F1. It was around then they decided to exchange numbers and socials, allowing themselves to reconnect once more. She supported him quietly from afar, offering gentle reassurance that he’d always have one fan out in the crowds. Even if she wasn’t physically there.

DECEMBER 18TH, 2024-

12:30 PM.

It was just a few more days until Hattie’s birthday, which had already been meticulously and extravagantly planned by Y/N and Hattie’s boyfriend. They rented out this beautiful restaurant by the lakeside, which would perfectly reflect the stars at night, and create a beautiful atmosphere for her twenty-second birthday. All of this complete with a small firework show approved by the city.

It also doubles as a celebration for their favorite racer.

Oscar had flown in as well, happy to be there to support his sister despite the fact the 2024 season had just come to an end, with promising results for both himself and Mclaren. Y/N picked him up from the airport, and after he dropped his things off at the childhood home his parents still occupied, they went out to the nearby mall for lunch, and to go dress shopping.

“Is there a certain color scheme?” He questioned as he shifted through various racks. Growing up with three younger sisters, Oscar would like to say he had decent fashion sense.

“No,” Y/N replied, her hand brushing against his as she reached to grab one of the dresses along the rack he was shuffling in. She felt a shiver run down her spine, but she rolled her shoulders and shrugged the sensation off. “It’s a birthday party, not a wedding.”

He snorted, softly shaking his head, “Well you’ve certainly put in the effort of a wedding. You crossed the line when you mentioned the fireworks.” Y/N playfully rolled her eyes, holding up the dress she selected whilst looking in the mirror that hung at the end of the rack. Too fancy.

“She’s been my best friend for years,” She hung the dress back up, sifting through them some more before selecting another. “I want it to be special.” Another dud. She hung it back up and sighed.

“How about this one?” Oscar questioned, holding a dress out to her. Y/N accepted it, tilting her head as she examined her reflection. Flattering, simple, pretty. “Looks good to me.”

“Perfect.”

DECEMBER 21ST, 2024-

7:45 PM.

The night had gone perfectly. It was a family and friend’s exclusive experience, featuring the Piastri family, some of their other friends, Hattie, and her boyfriend. They dined expensively and laughed over ridiculous jokes, letting the high class facade fall to enjoy a spectacular night with people they loved and cherished.

Once she was finished with the late dinner, Y/N excused herself for some air. It was an exciting night, but that made it just as overwhelming as any other party. She went out onto the balcony on the second story of the restaurant, the orchestral music and soft chatter of longtime friends fading into the background.

The fresh air hit her arms first, causing goosebumps to line her skin. She rested against the railing, looking out over the starry lake that shimmered with the beauty of the sky.

“I thought I’d find you up here,” She perked up at the familiar voice of Oscar, causing her to straighten up and turn to look at him. She couldn’t help the cheesy grin that tilted her lips upwards, one that he easily matched. He stepped forward until he was beside her, resting his arms against the railing himself. Their shoulders brushed together, but neither pulled away. “Why’re you here?”

“Why are you here?” She rebutted with a playful tone, both brows raised. Her eyes were pinned to the lake, but Oscar’s… His gaze never left her.

“I was looking for you.” Her attention faltered, and she found herself looking at him with an expression of confusion. “Lots of people I don’t know. Guess that’s what I get for living so far away,” He spoke softly, like a whisper.

Almost in sync, both of them looked away again. “Guess that just means you need to visit more often.” The moment drifted off into comfortable silence, both of them enjoying the presence of distant friends. Each yearned for more.

It was only broken by the bustling laughter from bellow. The dinner party had traveled outside in preparation for the surprise fireworks show, but with them came loud laughter. The music had died down now, leaving room for the crackle and explosion of bright lights, infecting the sky with neon colors.

Even with this blazing spectacle above him, Oscar couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. She was witnessing those fireworks firsthand, while he witnessed them through the reflection of her captivating eyes. “Wow,” She muttered under her breath, taken aback by just how beautiful they were.

“Wow.” He repeated, staring like a lovestruck fool. “Y/N,” he spoke firmly. It took her a moment, but she looked from the night sky to him, only to find him staring intently already.

“Yeah?” He leaned in, and at first she felt uncertain. But eventually, she followed his lead.

“I love you.”

Their lips pressed together in an electrifying manner, sparks flying just as the fireworks died down. When it was time to pull away, she felt her breath catch in her throat.

“I love you too.”

Even though they spent it alone, the rest of their night was filled with just as much laughter and mirth.

[chiscaralight]

Can we have a bunny!hybrid reader with ratio smut please pretty please with a cherry on top 🙏

Where it’s the first time he’s been with a hybrid and he wants to explore your body and which parts are sensitive for “research” ;) I have an unhealthy obsession with your fics and ratio

LIVE LOVE LAUGH chiscaralight

i too, am obsessed w mr ratio…

dr ratio x reader nsfw . bondage. might not be exactly what u asked but!

“veritas, is this really necessary?”

“you were moving around too much, it’s getting in the way of my tests.”

and you writhe against the intricately wound ropes, whimpering as they feel like they’re tightening against you. he’s been prodding and poking at your body, under the guise of studying your body. you've told him time and time again, it's the same as anyone else's, just adorned with ears and a cute cotton tail, but it's not enough for him.

it's a simple set of experiments this time, he's just looking for certain areas, erogenous zones across your body. well, it’s simple for him, much less for you. you’ve endured countless minutes of him brushing his fingers and occasionally even his tongue against different parts of you, getting nothing more of it than a hum and him shifting to his scattered pieces of paper to write something down before shifting back his attention to you.

this whole thing is a pain. coupled with your inherited sex drive of a rabbit plus the way he’s feeling you up, it was almost set in stone that that wet spot on your panties would grow, dampening your entrance as you continue to attempt to brush your thighs together for some, any type of relief.

of course ratio notices, there’s no need for him to go on, but he does anyways. as well as testing your body, he’s testing your resolve. how much you think you can hold back, counting the seconds until you crack and your weak voice mumbles out his name.

which honestly isn’t very long, because you’re practically moaning out his name once his rough fingers come in contact with the base of your cute ears. he thinks it’s interesting, more interesting than it should be, because his cock is jumping in his pants at the lewd noises you’re letting out. he’s softly scratching at your fuzzy ears, and each scrape of his short nails has you wriggling against the restraints, whining about how good it feels. he’s not even touching anything else and you’re already so worked up, what if he tries a different approach to this ‘test’?

your lips are wrapped firmly around his cock, bobbing your head so easily as you moan hard around him. his short nails are still brushing at your ears, and you can only shift in your spot, your body still held back by the ropes he insisted on keeping you in. ratio's eyes are trained on your every reaction, trying to keep a clear mind. but you're just doing so well, he's almost forgetting you're supposed to be running a test! you don't seem to find though, because your tongue is dancing expertly on the underside of his cock, rolling with ease around his length as you keep up a sickly sweet pace. but it's much too early to cum, and he has one more experiment he wants to try.

face pressed hard into the sheets, ratio wastes no time in fucking into you hard, his large hands are keeping your hips in place, snapping up and into yours at such an alarming rate you can barely keep up. it's like nothing you've ever felt before, your mind is numb from the pleasure and you're moaning into the sheets. but it's when his hand finds your cute little cotton tail, softly tugging on it that your head flies up.

now, you're a mess, back arching hard as you try to reach back and grab his arm, but to no avail. his grip on the soft fur is just tight enough that it's way too much for you, and you're sobbing at the sheer amount of pleasure coursing through your veins. your eyes are crossing hard, and you're feeling lightheaded with the way you're orgasm is rushing into you like a waterfall. you can't even warn him first! but the way you start to shake under him and your essence that's shooting against his pelvis is just as good a warning as any other. you're not even sure when he cums, but he keeps going, helping you to ride out those last few waves of pleasure as your body starts to come down. you're weak and fucked out, fully ready to give yourself away to the spirit of sleep after such an intense orgasm. but the test results are in, and ratio can finally free you now. he's found his favorite one.

[no-144444]

temptations- m.verstappen

Day 11 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: you and max are on break and things get out of hand. Nothing like tmz to mess things up, right?

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You stepped into the villa with one idea in your mind, relax. 

The season had been full of highs and lows, and Max needed to get his mind off racing for a while, and you needed to get your mind off your work. You needed him, to be honest. 

The villa was just on the coast, a beautiful stone dock with a small boat sat at the end of the garden, giving way to the gorgeous views of the Tyrrhenian Sea. Max had done well to find a place on the Amalfi coast on such short notice. Minori was gorgeous at this time of year, and you weren’t letting it go to waste. Your days were filled with good food, good conversation, great wine, fun activities, and good company. As much as you enjoyed spending time with your friends or Max’s friends, you both needed some time with each other. The season had been heretic, and Max had started panicking a few weeks back about whether or not he’d win again. Of course, you’d been there to tell him that it’d be alright either way, and he shouldn’t listen to that awful voice in his head that his father planted at the ripe old age of 4, and, of course, he tried as hard as possible, but he slowly fell further into his spiral over losing. You needed to get him away from it all, just let him be Max, not Max Verstappen, 3 time World Champion. 

The sun slowly set over the ocean as you sat on the patio after another long day of swimming, visiting the local sights, and just enjoying each other's company. “More wine?”

You smiled up at him and nodded. He topped off your glass and sat down beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist and kissed your head. “Thanks baby.”

He took a deep breath, one of relief. You hadn’t seen him so calm in months. It was refreshing to remind both you and him that he wasn’t a racing robot. “I miss the cats.”

You chuckled. “I’m sure Lando is taking good care of them, he sent me some photos earlier and they’re not dead yet, so that’s a plus.” 

He rolled his eyes. “What a high bar,” he replied sarcastically. 

“At least he didn’t lock them in a room,” you teased and he rolled his eyes yet again. 

“It was an accident,” he groaned. 

You pressed your lips to his in an unspoken apology.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered against your lips. “So fucking perfect.”

“You’re not too bad yourself,” you chuckled. “I love it here.”

“We should buy a place here,” he thought out loud. “Regular vacation spot?”

You nodded. “It’d be nice.” 

Suddenly, his phone started ringing, Lando. “I’d better take this.” 

You nodded, letting go of him. You thought over the past few days. From the dreamy mornings to the blissful nights, there was one thing you two hadn’t done yet, that you just had to do. On your 3rd date, over 4 years ago, he made an off-handed comment about the fact that he ‘would never go skinny-dipping’. 

Yeah, you were changing that tonight.

You quickly pulled off your dress, your panties and bra, and waited in the warm Italian air for Max to be done speaking with Lando. 

When he came back out, it was safe to say he was shocked. “Are you becoming a nudist?” 

You burst out laughing, taking his hand. “No! We’re going skinny-dipping.”

He shook his head. “Why would we do that? If you want to go swimming i can get your suit-”

“You can’t fuck me through the suit, can you?”

Again, too stunned to speak. 

“Come on Max! You’re 27 and you’ve never skinny-dipped? That’s ridiculous!”

You slowly watched him become motivated (aka, your tits were in his face), and he smirked, pulling off his top. “This is so stupid,” he commented before pressing his lips to yours in a searing kiss. You two walked down to the pier, Max shredding clothes as you went and stealing kisses. You both jumped in, the water a comfortable temperature over both of you. 

“Are you sure about this?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Are you?”

“Fuck yes,” he groaned, kissing you hungrily. He pushed you up against the stairs kissing down your neck as you both let the world fall away. All you were thinking about was his lips on your skin and the heat in your core.

He ran a finger through your heat, smirking. “Wet already?” 

“We’re in the ocean,” you smirked, he shook his head. 

“You’re impossible.”

“You love it-”

A camera click. A motherfucking camera click. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. 

Instinctively you both rushed to cover yourselves. This was private property, private land, and you could sue them for posting those pictures. But they’d still be on the internet. For anyone to see. It was you who they could see, Max had his back to the camera. 

Your career was over. Your family would disown you. Your life would be over. Shit. 

Max reached over, grabbing a towel you’d left out to dry on the stairs and wrapped it around you and you quickly ran inside, rushing to shower and get into pyjamas. You loved Max, you loved his passion for the sport, but god did you hate the attention it gathered. 

“It’s alright,” he whispered, pulling you into his arms as you sat in bed. “We’ll deal with it.” 

You let out a pathetic chuckle. “Easy for you to say, it’s not your tits that will be sprawled all over the papers tomorrow.”

“They aren’t mine, no. But they are my girlfriend’s.” 

You nodded, he had a point. “Fair.”

He brushed a hand through your hair. “Whatever happens, we can handle it, yeah?”

You nodded. Maybe it would be alright.

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yourusername

liked by pierregasly, maxverstappen, and 6,873,939 others

yourusername: god forbid a girl has hobbies tmz.

comments

landonorris: didn't realise being fucked in public was a hobby? -> yourusername: IT WASN'T PUBLIC WE WERE IN OUR PRIVATE VILLA

user55: oh she's serving CUNT

user22: not her hitting back, slay.

oscarpiastri: I fear this may be an original experience. -> maxverstappen: thanks for pointing out the obvious osc 👍

charlesleclerc: Never needed to see those pics 👍 -> yourusername: bro is SO jealous right now. -> user43: ????? -> yourusername: I HAVE MAX AND U DON'T HA HA -> user43: OHHHHH

georgerussell: Do we go to the FIA about this? -> maxverstappen: what can they do? give her a penalty for showing off her tits? -> yourusername: my GORGEOUS tits* -> landonorris: buddy is in the dog house.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

fic-tober masterlist

taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff @5sospenguinqueen @yootvi

[cozage]

Could you write a short fic for Zoros reaction to his s/o falling down some stairs (but she is ok just bruised) please. BTW love your writing

Characters: Zoro x female reader CW: none :) Total word count: 1k

Slip and Fall

One second you were upright, walking down the stairs.The next moment, you were staring up at the ceiling. 

The pain caught up with you quickly, and you groaned from the aches that riddled your body. Judging by the pain in your back, you must’ve slid down the stairs. Nothing seemed to be broken, but you were certain you’d have a few bruises to show for your misstep. 

You closed your eyes and focused on your breathing, trying to recenter yourself and minimize the pain.

“What the hell was-” Zoro’s irritated voice cut off abruptly, and you braced yourself for some kind of cheap joke at your expense. 

But nothing came. You were certain he hadn’t left, but he also made no move to get closer to you. Or do anything. 

“Y/N?” Zoro’s voice came out as a harsh whisper. 

“I’m fine, thanks for asking.” You breathed out a laugh. The pain seemed to be getting worse the more you lay there. “Help me up, will you?”

“No!” Zoro finally moved, rushing over to you to keep you still. “You shouldn’t move. It could-you could-I don’t want you to-”

“Zoro,” you groaned, finally opening your eyes and instantly meeting his. 

His eyes were so full of worry. They raked over your body, searching for any sign of injury. And you realized that Zoro was truly scared. 

Naturally, his fear made you panic. 

“What?” you tried to lift your head, but Zoro refused to let you move. 

“Chopper needs to check for a spinal injury. If you landed wrong…” He shook his head, as if he were shaking a thought from his head. 

“Zoro, I’m fine.” Though your back was probably blossoming with bruises, you were sure you’d survive.

“Let me go get Chopper. Just stay here for a minute. Please.” His last word was barely a whisper. It was that word, that small act of begging, that kept you anchored to where you laid. 

“Alright, alright.” You closed your eyes. “You fuss too much.”

“I do not-” You could hear him clench his jaw in frustration. “Just stay still for a minute!”

His hurried footsteps receded, and you could hear distant shouts from off in the distance, followed by footsteps coming back to you quickly. 

“She slipped and fell,” Zoro said softly, and you could hear Chopper set down his medical kit and open it. 

“Can you open your eyes for me?” Chopper asked. You opened them. 

“Do you know your name?”

You laughed. “Of course I do!” 

Chopper and Zoro didn’t join your laughter, so you gave your full name to the doctor. 

The reindeer nodded. “And do you know where you are?”

You sighed. “The Sunny. The Grand Line. Don’t ask me where on the Grand Line, because I wouldn’t even know that on my best day.”

Chopper gave a slight smile at that answer, but Zoro was still watching you from a few feet away. He was tucked back in a corner, almost as if he was scared of you. 

“Did you hear me?” Chopper asked, waving a hand in front of your face. 

You blinked. You hadn’t heard his question. You hadn’t even realized he was speaking. 

“What is five plus five?” Chopper asked again. 

“Oh. Ten,” you answered quickly, taking your eyes off of Zoro for only a moment before finding him again. He looked so pale, and his mouth was pressed in such a tight line as he watched Chopper. You opened your mouth to speak, but Chopper spoke first. 

“Zoro, can you come help her sit up? I’d like to check her back for any signs of injury.”

“Chopper, I told you already! I’m fine!” Your words were accompanied with a groan as you tried to sit up on your own. 

Zoro was suddenly there, gently guiding you into a sitting position. You rolled back your shoulders, trying to shake off the stiffness of your muscles. Zoro only watched you, his face still hard as stone. 

“Zoro.” Your fingers cupped his face, forcing his eyes to lock onto yours. “I’m here. I’m okay, really.”

“She’s right,” Chopper agreed, looking at you. “Some icky bruises for a few days, and you probably have a minor concussion, but you’re okay.”

“See?” You smiled. “I’m okay.”

Zoro nodded and pulled his face away from your grip. The panic in his eyes has subsided, but only slightly. 

“I probably need a lot of bedrest though, right Chopper?” You gave a slight nudge to the reindeer. 

“Huh? You don’t-” Chopper caught your wink and worried glance at Zoro. “Oh! Yes! She needs lots of rest. And she shouldn’t be alone…because of the concussion! Zoro, can you look after her?”

Zoro narrowed his eyes slightly, and you gave him a sheepish grin and you held out your hands. “Help me up?” you asked. 

He did you one better, gently picking you up off the ground. He was careful to avoid the sensitive spots on your back. How he knew exactly where they were, you weren’t sure, but you were thankful he was considerate. 

You were quick to pull him into bed and snuggle into his chest. Even if it wasn’t the most comfortable for your sore body, you were happy to be close to him. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No.” His response was short, clipped. 

“Okay,” you hummed, curling in closer to him. 

A few minutes passed in comforting silence, and you were almost asleep when he kissed the top of your head. 

“I thought you were dead,” he whispered hoarsely. “I thought I lost you and I just…I couldn’t go through that again. I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t. I’m right here,” you murmured softly into his chest, letting his warmth lull you into a deep sleep.

[ahqkas]

♯ PUPPY PRINCESS ; remus lupin

PAIRING! young!remus lupin x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! every gift of yours is something remus tends to cherish, especially your love for creating from nothing (based on this req.!!)

WORD COUNT! 3.1k

WARNINGS / TAGS! pure fluff, remus is nothing but smitten and wrapped around your finger

NOTES! autumn’s coming and my obsession with the marauders is slowly defrosting ☹️ all the credits to the pretty devider below belong to @aqualogia !

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

I. A TANGLED WEB OF YARD AND ADORATION

THE LATE AFTERNOON SUNLIGHT FILTERED THROUGH THE TALL WINDOWS of the Gryffindor common room, casting a warm glow across the stone walls. You're sitting comfortably on the couch, your legs tucked beneath you, with your hands working steadily, creating a rhythm with the yarn and crochet hook. The familiar motion of looping the yarn through the hook brought a sense of calm, a quiet joy that you've always found in crafting.

Remus Lupin sat nearby with a thick textbook in his lap, but the words kept getting tangled in his mind due to his lack of attention on the subject. He was supposed to be studying — there's a Transfiguration exam tomorrow that he really should be preparing for — but he couldn't seem to tear his gaze away from you. He watched the way your hands moved, the smooth, practiced motions that seem to come so naturally to you. There was something about it that fascinated him, though he couldn't quite put it into words.

"You're staring again," you say, glancing up and meeting his dark eyes with a small, knowing smile. Your tone is light, teasing. You're used to it now — how his attention drifts from his studies to you whenever you're engrossed in one of your hobbies.

Your boyfriend looked slightly embarrassed, flushed cheeks caught in the act, but he smiled back at you. "Sorry," he replied, though it didn't sound as sincere as it should. He wasn't sorry for admiring you and your skills. "I just . . . I don't know how you do it."

"Do what?" you asked, your hands never pausing in their work. The yarn slides smoothly through your fingers.

"Make it look so easy," he said, genuinely curious. "It's like you're weaving magic with your hands."

You gave him a soft chuckle at that, shaking your head as you finish off another row. "It's not that complicated, really. It's just practice. Anyone can learn if they have the patience."

The werewolf nodded thoughtfully, though he was not entirely convinced he could manage it. The heavy textbook was set down, the revision long forgotten. "What are you making this time?" he asked you, leaning forward slightly, his curiosity piqued which charmed a smile on your lips.

"A scarf," you answer, keeping your focus on the yarn as you hold up the length of your still unfinished work that's slowly but surely taking shape. The stitches were tight and even and the colour of the fabric shined in the fire of the fireplace. "Winter's coming soon, and I figured you could use something warm."

Remus' brows lifted in surprise, eyes flickering between your face and the scarf in making. "For me?"

"Of course," you said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I wanted to make something you'd actually use. Plus, it's a good excuse to work with this colour."

He couldn't help but linger at the scarf — a deep burgundy, the color of his tie, which reminded him of autumn leaves and Gryffindor pride. It was a shade he'd always liked, and the thought that you'd chosen it specifically with him in mind made him feel a quiet sense of gratitude. 

"Thank you," he said quietly now with sincerity lacing his every word. "I really appreciate it."

You looked up then, meeting his gaze with a smile, the kind of smile that made something warm unfurl in his chest. Something unspoken passed between the two of you — an understanding, a quiet connection that didn't need words to be felt. "I enjoy making things for people I care about," you replied. "And you can't go wrong with a good scarf."

There was a comfortable silence as you returned to your work, and Remus found himself drawn once again to the way your hands moved with such practiced grace. He'd always been fascinated by the kind of magic that doesn't come from a wand — the quiet, everyday magic that you brought to life with your hobbies. He watched as the yarn twisted and turned, forming something tangible and warm, something that wasn't there just moments before.

After a while, you glanced at him again, your eyes thoughtful. "You know," you started, voice casual but inviting, "if you ever want to learn, I could show you how to crochet. It's not as difficult as it looks."

Remus hesitated, caught off guard by the offer. He'd never thought of himself as particularly crafty — his talents have always leaned more towards theoretical things, like books and spells. But the idea of sitting with you, learning something new together, was oddly appealing. "I don't know if I'd be any good at it," he admitted, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. A part of him was terrified his hands weren't stable enough for such work as your own were.

But you just shrugged lightly, focus still on the scarf as it grew longer with each stitch. "It's not about being good at it," you exclaimed. "It's just . . . something calming to do with your hands. A way to focus your mind on something simple."

The werewolf considered this, watching the way your hands moved with a steady, comforting rhythm. There was a kind of peace in it, a meditative quality that he couldn't help but find appealing. "Maybe I'll give it a try," he said finally, the corners of his mouth lifting in a small smile. "If you promise not to laugh at me."

"I would never. I think you might surprise yourself."

The hours slipped by as the common room gradually emptied, students heading off to their dormitories as the evening wore on. The fire burned low in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the walls, but you and Remus remained where you were, content in each other's company. The scarf in your hands grew  longer with each passing moment, the yarn slowly transforming into something tangible, something with weight and warmth.

Eventually, you finished your work, holding up the completed scarf for Remus to see. The stitches were beautifully done, the pattern simple yet elegant, and the color — rich and deep — seemed to glow in the firelight. "What do you think?" you asked, a hint of pride in your voice at your boyfriend's speechless reaction.

Remus reached out, his fingers brushing over the soft fabric. It's perfect, he thinks, not just because of how it looked, but because of what it represented — your care, your thoughtfulness, the time and effort you put into making something just for him. "It's . . . perfect," he opened his heart to you, voice thick with emotion. "Thank you."

You gave him a sweet smile, pleased with his reaction. "I'm glad you like it."

II. THE ART OF CLAY

THE SOUND OF RAIN ECHOED SOFTLY AGAINST THE GLASS WINDOWS OF THE HOGWARTS GREENHOUSE, creating a gentle rhythm that blended with the faint rustling of leaves and the occasional drip of water from overhead plants. The air was thick with the earthy scent of wet soil and blooming herbs, an atmosphere so comforting to you that made the space feel like a world apart from the usual hustle and bustle of the castle. You were seated at a small worktable near the back, a lump of cool, gray clay before you, your hands already beginning to shape it into something more.

Remus Lupin stood quietly nearby, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed casually as he simply watched you. There was a sparkle in his gaze, the kind that comes from someone who finds fascination in the smallest details, in the quietest moments. His curiosity was piqued by the sight of you working with the clay, your hands moving with a practiced confidence that hints at countless hours spent honing your craft.

The room was otherwise empty, giving the two of you a rare moment of privacy amidst the bustling school and your friends who were constantly full of life (named James Potter and Marlene McKinnon). The greenhouse, usually a place for Herbology classes, had became your private studio, a place where you could indulge in your love for pottery — a hobby that was as grounding as it was creative.

"Do you ever get tired of making things?" Remus asked, breaking the comfortable silence. There was no hint of judgment in his tone, only genuine curiosity. He'd seen you immersed in various crafts before — crocheting, jewelry making — but each time, you seemed as passionate as ever.

You glanced up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Not really," you replied to his question, your hands still working the clay. "It's like . . . I don't know, a way to clear my mind. I like the idea of starting with something so simple, like a lump of clay, and turning it into something that wasn't there before."

Remus nodded thoughtfully, his eyes following the movement of your hands as they smoothed the surface of the clay. There was a certain grace in the way you worked, a rhythm that was almost hypnotic to him. "What are you making today?" he questioned again, this time moving closer to get a better look.

"A bowl," you explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Your fingers pressed gently into the clay, shaping the walls of the bowl with careful precision. "Something simple, but useful. I thought it might be nice to have one for our common room. We could use it to hold things — keys, cigarettes, chocolate frogs."

A charming smile appeared on his lips at that, the idea of something as ordinary as a bowl bringing a sense of homeliness to the often chaotic Gryffindor common room. "That sounds like a good idea," the praise left him naturally when it came to you, pulling up a stool to sit beside you. "Do you mind if I watch?"

"Not at all," you replied, glancing at him briefly before returning your focus to the clay. "But be warned, it's not as exciting as it looks."

Remus didn't agree. He'd always been intrigued by the way you found joy in creating things, in bringing something new into the world with your hands. As he watched, he noticed the subtle movements of your fingers, the way they coaxed the clay into shape, turning a shapeless lump into something with form and purpose. It was a process that seemed almost magical to him, though he knew it was nothing more than skill and practice.

The rain continued to patter against the windows, a soothing backdrop to the sound of your hands working the clay. Every so often, you dipped your fingers into a small bowl of water, smoothing out imperfections and keeping the clay pliable. Remus had never seen you look so beautiful; hands dirty, hair messy, and you clothed in one of his favorite sweaters.

"You make it look easy," he commented after a while, his voice low so as not to disturb your concentration.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "It's not always. There's a lot that can go wrong — air bubbles, cracks, the clay drying out too quickly. But that's part of the fun, I suppose. It keeps you on your toes."

He gave you a nod, understanding the appeal in a way.

After a while, you sat back slightly, examining your work with a critical eye. The bowl was nearly complete, its shape smooth and even, the walls sturdy yet delicate. "What do you think?" you asked, turning to Remus with a small smile.

He leaned in closer, studying the bowl with a thoughtful expression. "It's an excellent work," he said, his voice sincere. "You've really got a talent for this."

You blushed slightly at the compliment, but there was a pleased look in your eyes. "Thanks, love. I'm glad you think so."

III. CRAFTING CONNECTIONS THROUGH SILVER AND STONE

THE CASTLE WAS QUIET AS EVENING SETTLED OVER HOGWARTS, the usual loud of students giving way to a serene calm. The Gryffindor common room was dimly lit, with only the flickering fire casting warm shadows across the burgundy rugs and tapestries. You were seated at a small table by the window, a soft light of the moon illuminating your workspace, where an array of tiny tools, shimmering beads, and delicate chains lay spread out before you.

Remus Lupin sat nearby, his attention drawn to the intricate work you were doing. He had always been fascinated by your hobbies, each one opening a door to your soul. But there was something particularly mesmerizing about watching you make jewelry — something in the way you handled the delicate materials with such care, transforming them into beautiful, wearable art. Watching your smaller hands mend the delicate pieces stirred a feeling in his chest.

"Doesn't it get frustrating?" the werewolf asked, leaning forward slightly, his eyes following the careful movements of your fingers. "Working with such tiny pieces, I mean."

You smiled softly, not taking your eyes off the silver chain you were holding. "Sometimes," you admitted, carefully threading a small brown stone onto the chain. "But there's something satisfying about it too. It's like solving a puzzle, finding the right combination of stones and metals to make something that feels just right, y’know."

He nodded thoughtfully, his gaze shifting to the array of materials on the table. Tiny glass beads of various colors sparkled in the firelight, alongside small stones and bits of silver wire that would soon be part of some new creation of yours. "It's impressive," he said quietly, more to himself than to you. "How you can take something so small and turn it into something so . . . meaningful."

You glanced up at him, a pleased smile on your lips. "Thank you, Remus. I think that's what I love about it — how something so simple can become something special, something that can be important to someone."

He watched as you carefully threaded a few more stones onto the chain, your fingers moving with the kind of ease that came from years of practice. There was a kind of magic in it, he thought — a different kind from what they learned in class, but no less powerful. It was a magic that didn't come from wands or spells, but from the heart and soul, from the desire to create something beautiful and meaningful.

"What are you making now?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him as he leaned in a bit closer.

"A bracelet," you replied, holding up the nearly finished piece for him to see. It was simple yet elegant, made of fine silver links with small brown and black stones interspersed between them. The stones caught the light as you turned the bracelet in your hand, their colors shifting subtly in the firelight. "I thought it might make a nice gift for someone."

Remus took in the bracelet, admiring the craftsmanship, the way the silver and stones complemented each other perfectly. "It's beautiful," he said, a note of awe in his voice. "Who's it for?"

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes flicking up to meet his. There was a softness in your gaze, something almost shy. "I was thinking . . . maybe you'd like it," you said, your voice quiet, almost hesitant.

For a moment, Remus was taken aback, surprised by the offer. He hadn't expected you to be making it for him, but now that he knew, he felt a warmth spread through his chest, a feeling of gratitude and something more, something deeper. "For me?" he asked, his voice laced with surprise.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "I wanted to make something that would remind you of our time together," you said, a hint of nervousness in your tone. "Something you could keep with you."

Remus felt his heart swell with emotion, a mixture of surprise, gratitude, and something else — something tender and profound. He looked at the bracelet again, seeing not just the beauty of the piece, but the thought and care that had gone into it, the meaning behind every detail. "I . . . I don't know what to say," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "It's . . . it's perfect. Thank you."

You smiled, the tension easing from your posture as you saw the genuine appreciation in his eyes. "I'm glad you like it," you said, your voice soft. "It's not much, but I wanted to give you something special. Something that's from the heart."

Remus reached out, his larger fingers brushing against the cool silver links as you handed the bracelet to him. The metal was smooth under his fingertips, the stones cool and solid. He could feel the weight of it, not just the physical weight, but the emotional significance it carried. "It's more than just 'something,'" he said, his voice quiet but firm. "It means a lot to me. Really."

You watched as he carefully slipped the bracelet onto his wrist, the silver and stones catching the light as they settled into place. There was something incredibly intimate about the moment, the quiet exchange of a gift that held so much meaning. It was more than just a piece of jewelry to him.

As Remus fastened the clasp, he looked at you with deep, unspoken gratitude in his eyes. The bracelet fit perfectly, resting comfortably against his skin, the cool metal and smooth stones a constant, reassuring presence. "I'll treasure it," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I promise."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, a sense of contentment that came from knowing you had given him something truly meaningful. "I'm glad," you replied softly, your eyes meeting his.

For a long moment, the two of you sat there in silence, the only sound the crackling of the fire and the occasional rustle of the curtains as a breeze drifted through the window. There was a sense of peace in the air, a quiet understanding that didn't need words to be felt. Surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the soft glow of the evening, he knew that this — these simple, heartfelt moments with you — were what he would carry with him through the darkest nights, a light to guide him through whatever lay ahead.

[cup1drul3z]

★ — That's MY girl | CH 2

5.5ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ | ᴄᴇᴏ!ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

CW : Age gap if you squint, PLUS SIZED READER, power kink, cheating, modern au, new york, assistant reader, readers a little awkward but we love her anyway, sugar mommy, SMUT, fingering, cunninglings, strap, bondage, lingerie

A/N : guys im working on the stalker fic trust

The train ride home feels longer than it should.

You sit near the back, the car mostly empty, lights flickering overhead like they can’t decide whether to stay on or just give up. Your reflection stares back at you in the darkened window—smudged lipstick, swollen lips, collar slightly crooked, and that unmistakable shadow just below your jawline.

You touch it.

The spot Sevika’s mouth lingered.

Your stomach twists.

You shouldn’t have done it. You knew that the second you left the bar. But it doesn’t erase the memory of her hands on your body. The way your name sounded in her mouth. The way you wanted it. Craved it.

You close your eyes and grip the subway pole tighter. It doesn't help. The shame is thick and sour, crawling over your skin like something alive.

By the time you get to your stop, the guilt is louder than your footsteps.

Your apartment is dark when you unlock the door. One flickering lamp lights the living room, the faint buzz of the TV still running. Your boyfriend is half-asleep on the couch, blanket around his legs, a takeout box resting on the armrest beside him.

He stirs when the door clicks shut.

“Where the hell were you?” he mumbles, rubbing his face. “You said you were going for drinks. That was, like, four hours ago.”

Your heart skips. “Sorry. I lost track of time. First day stuff... they wanted to celebrate.”

He stares at you for a second too long, and your pulse races. You shift your hair slightly, trying to angle it over the mark Sevika left.

But he doesn’t notice.

Instead, he sits up, arms outstretched with a sleepy groan. “Come here.”

You hesitate.

Just for a second.

Then you cross the room and let him pull you into his arms, the warmth of his chest unfamiliar tonight. He presses a kiss to your cheek, then your lips. It’s slow. Familiar. Comfortable in a way that used to feel like love.

But now?

Now it just feels like lying.

“You smell good,” he mumbles into your hair. “Glad you had fun.”

You force a small laugh. “Yeah... me too.”

You close your eyes and let him hold you like nothing’s changed.

But everything has.

And deep down, you know it’s only a matter of time before this cracks wide open.

You woke up early.

Too early.

The kind of early where the light coming in through your blinds made everything look soft and blue, and the guilt still sat heavy in your chest like you'd swallowed a stone. But instead of spiraling, you did something else—rummaged through your closet.

You wanted to feel like you today.

So you slipped into a soft grey vest, something a little snug across the chest but not suffocating. The short-sleeved collared shirt underneath is crisp, clean. Paired with your flowy black maxi skirt, it moves with you—comfortable, confident, a little vintage librarian if you squint.

You check the mirror once, twice. It doesn’t scream “corporate,” but you don’t care.

For once, you feel good. Or at least better.

The train is less crowded this morning. You grab a seat near the back, setting your bag down beside you. You're flipping through your phone when someone plops down across from you with zero warning.

“Damn, girl. You look adorable.”

You glance up—Jinx.

Same wild blue braids, oversized bomber jacket, mismatched socks in loafers. She’s sipping an iced coffee the size of her head and looks like she hasn’t slept but somehow still radiates energy.

You smile. “Thanks. Closet panic. I didn’t want to pop a button again.”

Jinx snorts. “Honestly? Respect. You survived a boardroom and Sevika’s death stare. You deserve a little wardrobe crisis.”

You laugh, and she leans in like she’s about to let you in on a secret.

“Okay, so—there’s this cocktail thing in a few days. Fancy company event. Everyone’s invited, assistants too.”

You nod, eyebrows raised. “That sounds... terrifying.”

“Oh, it is.” she grins. “Dress code, open bar, people trying to pretend they’re more important than they are—it’s a blast. You coming?”

“I guess I have to now,” you say with a smile, then add, “Do we bring plus-ones?”

Jinx nods. “Yeah. They want it to feel ‘socially enriched’ or whatever PR bullshit they said in the email. You bringing your guy?”

Your stomach flips.

You hesitate just long enough for her to notice, but not long enough for her to comment.

“Yeah,” you say finally. “Probably.”

Jinx sips her coffee, watching you. “Cool. We’ll all be there, and a few other people aswell”

You nod slowly 

She leans back. “And Sevika usually shows up late. Quiet. Broody. Like Batman if Batman was hotter and more emotionally repressed.”

You choke on your breath a little, but cover it with a laugh.

Jinx just grins at you.

“See you in the office, cutie.”

She gets off at the next stop, waving as she goes. 

You sit back in your seat, suddenly very aware of what this cocktail party could mean.

And how complicated things are about to get.

You spend most of the morning pretending to work while actively avoiding eye contact with Sevika’s closed office door.

Every time you glance that way, your stomach flips. You’re sure she’s stewing in there—probably plotting your firing or worse, treating you like you’re invisible. That would almost be easier.

So when your desk phone buzzes with a message: “Come in.” —your blood turns to ice.

You stand, straighten your vest, and try to breathe like a normal human as you push open the door.

Sevika’s at her desk, sleeves rolled, shirt unbuttoned just enough to show that same stretch of ink. She’s leaning back in her chair, boots crossed at the ankle, like nothing in the world could touch her.

Except her eyes are locked on you the second you step inside.

You swallow. “You wanted to see me?”

She nods toward the door behind you. “Close it.”

Your hand hovers on the knob for a second too long, but you do it.

The soft click feels like a trap.

“I figured you’d be crawling out of your skin all day,” she says, tone casual, almost amused. “Relax. I’m not mad.”

You blink. “You’re not?”

A grin tugs at the corner of her mouth. “Why would I be mad? You practically came all over my hand last night.”

You flinch. “Sevika—”

“No one made you moan my name,” she continues, rising from her chair. “Don’t act like it wasn’t the best part of your week.”

She’s in front of you now, close again—too close. You take a step back, but she follows, always one breath away from pinning you to the wall.

“I told you I shouldn’t have,” you say, voice tight. “It was a mistake. I was drunk.”

“You were wet,” she counters, low and dangerous. “There’s a difference.”

Your mouth opens—no words. Just heat crawling up your throat.

“I can give you better,” she murmurs, eyes dark and slow-burning. “You don’t owe him loyalty just because you’re scared of being alone.”

You shake your head. “It’s not like that.”

Sevika scoffs. “You keep saying that. But you don’t look convinced.”

Then, before you can stop her, she drops to her knees.

Right there.

Her hands find your hips, grip firm and sure through the fabric of your skirt. She looks up at you, and something in your chest stutters.

“Tell me to stop,” she says, voice husky, lips inches from your waistband. “Mean it.”

You should. You really should.

But your hands stay at your sides, frozen.

You don’t push her away.

You don’t even move.

Then—

“Sevika, do you—”

The door opens.

Mel freezes in the doorway, one brow raised, her perfect blazer catching the light. Her eyes flick from Sevika on her knees to you, cheeks flushed, mouth parted.

Sevika doesn’t flinch.

Mel slowly, slowly shuts the door behind her without looking away.

The second Mel shuts the door, Sevika finally rises to her feet—slowly, deliberately, like she’s still not embarrassed. You’re the one left trembling.

But you don’t stay.

You don’t even think. You just move.

You throw open the office door and bolt into the hallway, nearly running over someone from accounting. Your skirt swishes around your ankles as you spot Mel turning the corner toward the elevators.

“Mel! Mel, wait—”

She doesn’t stop immediately, but you catch up, heels clicking against the tile in rapid panic.

“Please,” you gasp, breath catching as you reach her. “Please don’t tell anyone. It wasn’t—nothing even happened—”

Mel finally stops and turns, folding her arms across her chest. Her expression isn’t cold. It isn’t angry either. It’s… tired. Complicated.

“I won’t say anything,” she says, voice soft. “You have my word.”

You breathe out a shaky sigh, your shoulders sagging with relief.

“But,” she continues, “you should know... people already talk.”

Your blood chills. “What do you mean?”

Mel looks at you with something like pity. “This office? It's a glass box. Everyone sees everything. You think they didn’t notice Sevika acting different yesterday? You leaving early? That mark on your neck?”

Your hand instinctively rises to cover it.

“I didn’t mean for anything to happen—” you start, voice cracking.

“I know,” Mel cuts in gently. “But it doesn’t matter. In a place like this, rumors grow faster than promotions. All it takes is one glance. One smirk. One flushed face in the hallway.”

You look down, shame crawling up your spine.

Mel sighs and softens, placing a hand on your arm. “You’re not the first. And you’re not stupid. But Sevika… she’s not simple. Being close to her never is.”

You swallow hard. “So what do I do?”

Mel lets her hand fall back to her side.

“Be careful,” she says. “With her. With you. Because whether you meant to or not… you're in it now.”

Then the elevator dings, and she steps inside, leaving you standing in the hallway alone, the weight of your choices settling in your bones like concrete.

And for the first time, you’re not sure if you’re more afraid of losing your job—

—or losing yourself to Sevika again.

You wait outside her office for a long time.

Long enough that your nerves start to feel less like panic and more like a low, buzzing ache under your skin. The adrenaline is gone. All that’s left is the shame. The guilt. And the heat of her touch still ghosting your hips.

You finally knock, just once.

“Come in.”

Sevika’s voice is calm. Cool. Like nothing happened.

You step in slowly, shutting the door behind you. She’s at her desk, one arm resting lazily on the surface, the other tapping a pen against a manila folder. Her eyes flick up when you enter but don’t linger.

“I talked to Mel.”

“Obviously,” she mutters.

You take a few steps closer, but not too close.

“I’m serious this time,” you say, voice steady despite the tightness in your chest. “You have to stop. No more flirting. No more… whatever that was. I made a mistake, and I’m staying with my boyfriend. I’m not doing this again.”

Sevika raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t argue. She just leans back in her chair, gaze unreadable. “Fine.”

You blink. “...Seriously?”

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “You’re not the first girl to pretend it didn’t mean anything.”

Your stomach sinks. “That’s not what I—”

She cuts you off by opening a drawer and sliding a white envelope across the desk toward you.

You eye it like it might bite you.

“What’s that?”

“For the tights,” she says dryly. “You ripped them last night. And your blouse looked like it was about to quit during the meeting.”

You don’t move. “I don’t need pity money.”

Sevika sighs through her nose, annoyed. “It’s not pity, sweetheart. It’s compensation. You work for me. You’re supposed to look like you belong here.”

You hesitate. Then pick up the envelope and peek inside.

Cash.

Too much. Way too much.

This is not “replace your tights” money. This is “rent for two months” money. Or “disappear into another city and start over” money.

Your heart jumps into your throat. “This is insane.”

Sevika stands slowly, pushing her chair back as she walks around the desk—measured, controlled, still a storm beneath her skin.

“I don’t give people what they deserve,” she says, voice low, “I give them what I want to give. And I want you dressed like someone who knows her worth.”

You meet her eyes, and for a split second, you almost say something.

But you just nod. “Thanks.”

She nods back, then gestures toward the door. “You should get back to your desk.”

You turn to leave—but her voice stops you just before you open the door.

“You looked good today,” she murmurs, softer this time. “Comfort suits you.”

You don’t look back.

You just walk out, envelope clutched in your hand like a secret you’re not sure what to do with.

It’s your day off.

For once, you’re not rushing to get dressed or worrying about whether your shirt will survive a full workday. You're in comfy leggings, a tank top and a black jacket, your hair is messy and you look like you just rolled out of bed even if you did try to brush it a little. No makeup, no heels, just you and a half-empty shopping cart that doesn’t squeak when you push it.

For the first time in a long time, grocery shopping feels... nice.

You grab the name-brand mac and cheese without flinching. The good almond milk. Even a little candle from the home aisle, because screw it—you deserve soft lighting and lavender.

You’re halfway through comparing peanut butter prices when you feel it.

That shift in the air. That weird, subtle gravity that tugs at you, makes the back of your neck prickle.

You glance up.

And there she is.

Sevika.

In Target.

Wearing a long, wool coat that probably costs more than everything in your cart. Her hair’s tied back again, sunglasses pushed up onto her head, dark slacks and a fitted top that absolutely do not belong between rows of laundry detergent and Pop-Tarts. She’s pushing a red basket like it personally offended her.

You blink. Once. Twice.

She spots you.

And smirks.

You panic and pretend to read the back of a Nutella jar. Real smooth.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” she drawls as she approaches, voice low and vaguely amused.

You force a smile, pushing your cart an inch forward. “I could say the same. You don’t really strike me as the ‘bullseye deals’ type.”

She glances into your cart. “Treating yourself?”

You shrug. “Using my pity money wisely.”

That earns a sharp laugh from her—short, real.

“Still mad?”

“No,” you admit. “Just trying to feel normal for a minute.”

Sevika’s eyes linger on you. The oversized hoodie. The way your hair’s all loose and soft and you. Not Corporate You. Just You.

“I like this version,” she says, voice softer now. “You’re real like this.”

You hesitate, cart between you like a shield. “You stalking me?”

“Coincidence,” she shrugs. “Or fate, if you're feeling dramatic.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s half a smile. “You here for snacks or a personality transplant?”

“Neither,” she says, grabbing a box of granola bars and tossing them into her basket like it’s a power move. “Just needed trash bags.”

You stare at her.

“You’re too rich to take out your own trash.”

“I didn’t say they were for me,” she says, already turning toward the next aisle. “See you Friday, sweetheart.”

She disappears between frozen pizzas and Lean Cuisines, and you’re left standing there, heart weirdly fast, fingers gripping the handle of your cart a little too tight.

You sigh.

Of course Sevika looks good at Target.

You drop your groceries off at the apartment, still feeling Sevika’s smirk lingering somewhere in your ribs. Your boyfriend’s out—left a note about going to a friend’s place. You don’t think twice about it. You text Caitlyn.

You still down for coffee? I need your face and your moral compass. Bad.

She texts back almost immediately.

On my way. My treat. You’re getting the giant muffin too.

The café is cozy, tucked between a laundromat and a bookstore that’s always closed for “inventory.” The barista already knows your order—large iced caramel something, extra whipped cream—and Caitlyn’s sipping black coffee like her soul depends on it.

You take the first sip and finally exhale like you haven’t all day.

“So,” Caitlyn says, crossing her legs. “What’s this about a moral crisis?”

You bite your straw, unsure how to even begin.

“I… did something stupid.”

Her brows lift just slightly. “Define ‘stupid.’ Like, crash-your-ex’s-wedding stupid, or get-back-with-your-ex stupid?”

You look down at your drink.

Then say it.

“I slept with my boss.”

Caitlyn blinks. Slowly. Then takes the most dramatic sip of coffee you’ve ever seen.

You brace for it. The judgment. The disappointment. Anything.

But all she says is, “Well. That’s very ‘HBO original series’ of you.”

You stare. “Caitlyn—”

“I mean, I knew your life was messy,” she adds, leaning back. “But this is next level. I’m impressed.”

“Caitlyn.”

She softens immediately, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand.

“Hey. I’m on your side, remember? Always.”

Your throat tightens. “Even if I’m a home-wrecking, morally compromised disaster?”

“Especially then,” she says, giving you that rare smile—the real one, not the sarcastic smirk she gives annoying people at parties. “You needed something. You got it. And now we figure out what you’re gonna do next.”

“I’m staying with him,” you say quietly. “My boyfriend. I told her it was a mistake.”

Caitlyn’s eyes flick down. She doesn’t argue. Doesn’t say what you already know she’s thinking.

Instead: “Do you want to stay with him?”

You don’t answer right away.

She doesn’t push.

She just leans back, sipping her coffee again, eyes soft.

“Whatever you decide,” she says, “I’ll be here. To support you.”

You laugh—sharp and real and just a little broken.

She clinks her coffee cup against your plastic lid. “You’re not alone in this.”

The boutique Caitlyn drags you to is one of those clean, Pinterest-board-looking places with neutral walls, racks spaced perfectly apart, and a woman at the front desk who gives you complimentary cucumber water just for walking in.

You’re overwhelmed within five seconds.

Caitlyn, of course, is thriving.

“Okay,” she says, already flipping through hangers like a pro. “We want business casual, but comfy. Professional, but still you. So no more button-downs that look like they’re losing a fight with your chest, got it?”

You laugh. “Okay, okay. Deal.”

She hands you a soft sage green blouse with fluttery sleeves and a pair of black wide-leg pants that feel like pajamas but somehow look expensive.

You try them on.

You twirl a little in the mirror.

You look… good.

“You look hot,” Caitlyn says from outside the changing room, leaning dramatically against the door. “Hot and employed.”

You snort. “High praise.”

You walk out and grab another outfit—a soft cream cardigan, a fitted tank underneath, and a midi skirt with a tiny floral pattern. Comfortable. Confident. Something you can actually breathe in.

“Perfect,” Caitlyn says, nodding like a fashion judge. “Now…”

She pulls a black dress from the rack like a magician revealing her final trick.

It’s sleek. Short. A body-con that hugs all the right places with subtle ruching at the waist and a square neckline that’s flirty but still tasteful.

“This,” she says, “is the dress. Cocktail party. Show up. Make Your mark on that place..i mean if you haven't already for disappearing into the bathroom with the ceo”

You take it from her carefully, the fabric silky between your fingers.

“Cait,” you say, holding it up. “It’s… tight.”

She smirks. “And you’ve got a body worth showing off. Let her choke on it.”

You laugh, pressing the dress to your chest. “Okay, fine. This is the one.”

You don’t tell her how your heart races imagining Sevika seeing you in it.

You don’t have to.

Caitlyn sees the look in your eyes and just nods.

“You’ve got this.”

The suit hangs on the back of the bedroom door, still in its garment bag, untouched.

You’d picked it out yesterday. A simple black two-piece, nothing too flashy. Just… clean. Respectable. It felt like the least you could do—if you were dragging him into this cocktail party, you might as well make sure he looked like he belonged.

He didn’t even say thank you.

Now it’s the morning before the event. You’re moving around the apartment, folding laundry, fixing your hair into a loose ponytail, pretending everything is fine.

He leans in the doorway, yawning. Shirtless. Watching you with that sleepy grin he used to wear back when things felt simple.

“You know,” he says, walking over and sliding his hands around your waist, “we’ve got a little time before you head out for that pre-party work stuff…”

His lips brush your neck, warm and familiar. One hand starts to slip beneath your shirt.

Your stomach drops.

The familiar twist of guilt and disinterest coils tight in your gut. His touch feels wrong now—not cruel, not mean… just wrong.

You grab his hand gently and pull it away. “Not right now. I’m—uh—cramping.”

He pauses, eyes narrowing for a second. Then he sighs and steps back, not pushing, but clearly annoyed.

“Figures,” he mutters. “You’ve been weird lately.”

You force a tight smile. “I’ve just been tired. Work's been a lot.”

He shrugs and grabs his phone off the nightstand. “Alright, whatever. Just don’t forget we’ve got that thing tonight.”

“I won’t,” you say, already turning back to fold the same T-shirt you’ve touched three times.

He leaves the room.

You exhale slowly, your hands trembling just slightly.

The suit still hangs untouched.

And the black dress waits folded in tissue paper inside a boutique bag.

The venue is stunning—soft golden lighting, live jazz humming in the background, servers floating past with sparkling flutes and tiny hors d'oeuvres that look like food for rich fairies.

You walk in on your boyfriend’s arm, your black body-con dress hugging you just right. You feel the eyes on you as you enter—and for once, you don’t shrink under them.

You own it.

Your boyfriend doesn’t comment on the way heads turn. Doesn’t even notice. He’s too busy adjusting his tie and checking his reflection in every polished surface like he invented being mediocre in a suit.

You’re halfway into your second awkward sip of chardonnay when you feel her.

Sevika.

She walks in like the floor was laid out for her—broad shoulders in a dark tailored suit, black dress shirt unbuttoned just low enough to border indecent, no tie. Her hair’s slicked back, jaw set, eyes already scanning the room.

And then they land on you.

Her gaze lingers, intense and unreadable, before sliding to your boyfriend.

You swear the temperature drops.

She stares at him like she’s already picked out the weakest spot to punch first. Her mouth presses into a line. Her jaw ticks.

Your boyfriend, completely oblivious, is in the middle of bragging to Ekko about how he hit diamond rank in some online shooter. Ekko’s politely nodding, clearly dying inside.

You’re barely hearing them. Your attention is locked on Sevika, and she’s watching you right back.

You quickly look away and take a bigger sip of wine than intended.

“Damn, babe, slow down,” your boyfriend says, laughing as he slings an arm around your waist.

You flinch, just slightly.

He doesn’t notice that, either.

You glance across the room again. Sevika’s talking to Mel now—but her eyes keep drifting back to you.

Watching.

Measuring.

Waiting.

You adjust the neckline of your dress, trying not to think about her hands. About her mouth. About the last time you were alone together.

You drain the rest of your chardonnay.

A few hours later and the music’s too loud. The lights are too warm. The voices blur together like you’re underwater.

You laugh when you’re supposed to, nod when your boyfriend talks, sip your wine just to keep your mouth busy—but your chest is tight, your throat’s dry, and your ears are ringing.

And then he says something.

You don’t even catch it, really—some offhand comment about calories or how much you’re drinking.

It hits the same nerve anyway.

You excuse yourself without thinking, barely muttering something about needing air.

The balcony is massive, lined with plants that have no business looking that elegant. The night air is cool, crisp against your skin, and the city glows below like a reflection of the stars. No one’s out here. Just silence, finally.

You dig into your purse and pull out the cigarette you swore you weren’t keeping anymore.

You light it with shaking hands.

The first inhale hits hard. Not smooth, not pleasant—but grounding.

You breathe out slowly, leaning back in one of the sleek patio chairs, staring at the skyline like it might give you answers.

The door clicks behind you.

You don’t need to look.

You know it’s her.

Sevika steps out onto the balcony like she owns it—of course she does. She doesn’t say anything at first. Just walks over and nods toward your cigarette.

“Got another?”

You pause. Then reach into your bag and hand one over.

She lights it from yours, the flame flickering between you. Her fingers brush yours, just barely.

You don’t say anything.

She exhales, then glances over. “Didn’t think you smoked.”

“I don’t,” you say quietly. “Not really.”

She nods once. Like she gets it.

The silence hangs there, warm with shared breath, smoke curling between you.

“I didn’t hit him,” she says eventually.

You laugh—just a small, exhausted huff. “Yeah. Thanks for that.”

“He deserves worse,” she adds, taking another drag. “You looked miserable.”

You look at her. The city lights reflect in her eyes.

“I was.”

She turns to face you fully now, stepping closer, close enough that you can smell the smoke on her lips, the soft scent of whatever expensive cologne clings to her collar.

“I can’t stop thinking about that night,” she admits, voice low, dangerous with honesty.

You swallow. “I said it was a mistake.”

“Then why’d you light that cigarette like you were waiting for me?”

Your lips part, but no words come.

She reaches out, fingers brushing the side of your face, then trailing down your arm. Her hand rests gently on your waist, not demanding—just there. Her cigarette burns low between her fingers, forgotten.

You don’t pull away.

When she leans in, you meet her halfway.

The kiss is soft at first—surprisingly so. All breath and hesitation, like she’s asking for permission with her mouth. But then it deepens. Her hand grips your waist tighter. Your fingers curl in the lapel of her suit jacket.

The smoke, the night air, the tension—it all wraps around you, blurring out everything else.

Until—

“Are you serious?”

You both freeze.

Mel’s voice cuts through the quiet like a knife.

You turn your head slowly, lips still kiss-swollen, Sevika’s hand still on your waist.

Mel’s standing in the open balcony door, arms crossed, expression unreadable—but her eyebrow is doing the absolute most.

“Is this, like, a kink?” she says flatly. “You two only hook up when I’m about to walk in?”

You pull away from Sevika like you’ve just woken up mid-dream, breath still shaky, heart thudding in your ears. Her hand lingers on your waist for half a second before you step out of her reach completely.

You don’t meet her eyes.

You just walk.

Your heels click softly against the stone balcony floor as you move past the potted plants and melting ashtray, toward the glowing doorway where Mel’s still standing—expression unreadable, lips pursed, arms crossed like she’s both exhausted and waiting for a good reason not to slap someone.

You reach her side.

You pause.

Your lips part.

“Um—”

“I won’t tell anyone,” she says, eyes still on the skyline. Not unkind. Just resigned.

You nod. You don't say thank you. You don't have it in you.

You slip past her into the party, leaving the smell of smoke and regret behind you.

Back on the balcony, Sevika exhales hard through her nose, turning away from the city like she could punch the moon if she tried hard enough.

“You have the worst timing,” she mutters.

Mel doesn’t flinch. She finally steps out onto the balcony, letting the door close gently behind her.

“No,” she says. “You have the worst impulse control.”

Sevika shoots her a glare, sharp and tired. “Do you enjoy walking in every time I’m with her?”

“You’re not supposed to be ‘with her’ at all,” Mel snaps, lowering her voice. “She’s your employee. This is your job. You're not supposed to be sneaking off to make out with the assistant like you're in some—some corporate fanfiction!”

Sevika scoffs. “This isn’t just some fling.”

“Then it’s worse.”

Mel’s voice softens just slightly.

“She doesn’t know what she wants yet. And you're not helping.”

Sevika doesn’t respond at first. Her jaw flexes. She crushes the stub of her cigarette into the stone railing, the ember dying with a hiss.

“She was happy with me,” Sevika mutters. “For a second. She looked at me like—like I meant something.”

“And then she walked away,” Mel says gently. “Again.”

That one lands.

Mel sighs, placing a hand on the railing. “You can’t be the person she runs to and the reason she has to run from at the same time.”

Sevika doesn’t say anything.

Mel doesn’t press.

They just stand there—two tired women on a balcony full of secondhand smoke, watching the city sparkle like it’s mocking them.

The night hums quietly around them now, all the chaos and chatter muffled behind thick glass. The city blinks below like it’s listening in.

Mel doesn’t leave.

She just exhales slowly, watching Sevika’s clenched fists, the way her knuckles stay white even though the cigarette’s long dead.

“I thought you said you were fine,” Mel says, her voice not accusatory—just... tired. Familiar.

Sevika doesn’t answer right away. Just stares straight ahead, jaw tight.

Mel turns slightly, eyes narrowing. “Is this about her or is this about samantha?”

A beat.

Two.

Then Sevika scoffs, low and bitter. “Dont say her name like that.”

Mel sighs.  “You’ve been a wreck since she left.” she tried to say as gently as possible 

Sevika’s shoulders tense. “She didn’t leave. She traded up. Found someone who could give her the picture-perfect shit she wanted. I was just... temporary.”

Mel’s face softens.

“And then you met someone who looked at you like you were more than temporary,” she says, quietly. “And now you’re trying to make that mean something.”

Sevika doesn’t deny it.

She leans on the railing, both arms braced like she’s holding herself up.

“I didn’t even get time to be angry,” she mutters. “It was like—one minute we were fighting, and the next she was engaged. Just done. Like I was some phase.”

Mel tilts her head. “You weren’t.”

Sevika laughs bitterly. “Sure as hell felt like I was.”

She looks up at the sky—like maybe it’ll swallow the lump forming in her throat.

“I’m not used to being the one left behind.”

Mel watches her carefully. Then steps closer, just enough to be beside her, not in front of her.

“You don’t have to bury yourself in someone new to prove you still matter.”

“I’m not,” Sevika says automatically.

“You are,” Mel says gently. “And it’s not fair to either of you.”

Silence falls between them again—heavy, but not hostile. The kind of silence that only happens between people who’ve known each other too long, seen too much.

After a minute, Sevika mutters, “She makes it so fucking hard not to care.”

Mel nods slowly.

“I know.”

You’re standing near the hallway now, away from the main buzz of the party, one hand still loosely cradling your wine glass, the other clutching your little clutch bag like it’s going to keep you grounded.

But you never stopped watching the balcony doors.

And then, there they are.

Sevika and Mel walk in together, side by side.

They aren’t touching.

They aren’t even smiling.

But they’re… close. In that quiet, easy kind of way that doesn’t need words. The kind that says they’ve been through some things. That they know each other.

You notice the way Sevika looks at her. Not intense like how she looked at you on the balcony. But steady. Familiar. Like maybe she’s looked at Mel like that before. Like maybe she still does.

Mel leans in to say something low near Sevika’s ear, and Sevika gives her a tired smirk in return.

It guts you.

You feel ridiculous. And stupid. And young. Like this was never anything to her. Just a new game. A project. Maybe it was never about you at all.

Maybe you were just a stand-in.

Just the next girl who would look at her like she meant something.

Your throat tightens, the party sounds warping around you, distant and unimportant.

You set your wine glass on a table you pass and slip out the side entrance with your boyfriend without saying goodbye. Not to Caitlyn. Not to Ekko. Not to anyone.

You don’t look back.

And Sevika?

She doesn’t see you leave.

comment to be added to the taglist!

@gaptoothedlesbo @magnificentmilkshakearbiter @half-of-a-gay

[guiltyfemcel]

Puppy dog

•*⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧ *•*⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧*•

•ᴥ︎• Anon asks: Imagine reader being joost new dogsitter!! He’s away for tour or something and he constantly asks her for updates on his dogs :-)) when he returns they have some tension ?? Friends to lovers if u may

•ᴥ︎• A/n: This is my first fic, don’t be afraid to share constructive criticism, but also be mindful of why you were invited to the xreader 😊 lmao

•ᴥ︎•(dog) tags: 2.5k words, slowish burn, slight yearning, dog slobber, reader smokes cigs and has an “accent” thats about it.

part one, part two, part three

•*⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧ *•*⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧*•

Part 1

Joost had shown nothing but kindness to you when you had first moved to The Netherlands. You remember when you first met, drunkenly asking him for a light outside a club. He was quick to strike up a conversation, your sense of style and humor intriguing him, he caught the roughness in your accent when you spoke and asked about it. You haven’t had to force a conversation with him since, finding comfort in your shared interest and niche internet knowledge. It doesn’t confuse you why you became such close friends so quick, it was hard not to be charmed by his genuine personality.

That was quite some time ago now.

You had both leaned well into the comfort of your friendship, regularly seeing each other several times a week. Today was much like those other days, you both walking into a record store you frequented, the bell above the door jingled as you entered the aged building. Its shelves had long yellowed from time and dust covered records covered the walls of the store, but it had held up quite well and had an impressive array of music. You were engaged in lighthearted and colorful conversation, browsing the new arrivals section of the store as you usually do, but you were distracted by Joost’s attitude. Sure, he seemed happy to see you,still laughing and cracking jokes, yet you could tell there was something on his mind that kept pulling him away from you. You interrupted his explanation of a video he saw on instagram reels that had him crying laughing at 1am to ask him

“How has planning for tour been going?” You watched him pause, hands that were once dancing between records coming to a screeching halt.

“Great actually, everything is set in stone and now we just wait…” you watched a smile slide on his face but never reach his eyes. You had spent more than enough time around him to know when he was bullshitting. It was hard to hide the disbelieving face you wore, one accusatory eyebrow raising damn near to your hairline. Soft music from the old shop speakers filling the brief silence between you. He saw your pointed expression and quickly gave up trying to hold his tongue.

“Its just that…” He glanced again at how you now looked at him, your soft face craned up expectingly at him, and took a heavy breath in preparation.

“Apson was supposed to watch my dogs while i’m away and he just bailed on me last minute, the bastard.” He was turned towards you now fully “He’s really fucked me now, cause its too short notice to hire a dogsitter for so long im afraid.”

You were quick to understand the problem. Joost had come to you several times explaining the fear of having to get rid of his many dogs due to his career taking him away. He had managed to get away with it so far but it hadn’t been an easy task.

“Everyone else I’ve asked has had some excuse so… i was wondering…” You weren’t sure why he had hesitated so long to bring this up in the first place. Though you liked to watch him fumble over his words, you wish he didn’t feel the need to play coy with you.

“Joost, you know you can ask me anything right? If you need a dog sitter just ask!” you said nonchalantly, shrugging your shoulders.

“You say that but it’s a lot to handle, five dogs can be a lot sometimes. Plus they are very needy babies who need constant attention so you might need to stay over. I would understand if its too much.” He clasped his hands together, tall stature diminished by his slumped stature. You chuckled at his almost pathetic display, unsure if he was hamming it up to try and sway you. You hummed, pretending to think about all this, knowing really you were going to say yes the whole time. You watched as Joost tried to read your expression with sated breath, round blue eyes skirting across your features. He secretly took this moment to appreciate your current form, one finger curled on your chin and the other hand on your hip. You glossy eyes were turned away from him as you “searched” your brain for your decision.

His heart thumped at the thought of you in such a close part of his life. The thought of you in his place while he was away, making yourself at home with his dogs, It both excited him and scared him. He had long pondered the thought of you getting comfortable in his home, wondered what you would do when he wasn’t around. Many time this week he pictured you lovingly laying on his couch surrounded by several mounds of panting fur, or when you would inevitably snoop through his drawers when curiosity got the best of you. Not that he had anything to hide! But the strange intimacy of the situation made him feel a way he wasn’t quite prepared to deal with.

“Well…” Joost almost jumped at the sound of your voice in the air. “Im sure we could work something out…” You watched as the tension melted from his shoulders and his eyes disappeared behind his toothy grin.

“You seriously don’t know what this means to me! Im honestly not sure what i was going to do next, I thought maybe sledding but i’m not sure how i would make it to America” you were making it to the register by now, both with several records each. You tip your head back and laugh turning to him to say “thats a horrible idea, its wayyy too late in the season for sledding anyway.” Joost grabs your records as you begin to sift through your over flowing purse, you cursed yourself for once again forgetting to clean it out like you promised yourself.

“Bruv, you make it sound like you have such a better idea” He scoffed from beside you as you shuffled through empty lighters, old receipts. Really ashamed with yourself when you see a cigarette butt sitting in the bottom.

“I do! Just get a Luchtballon obviously, Duh! then you could paint your name on it like you do and its like free marketing.”

“You could never fit that many dogs in that thing, i would know”

Beep!

You glanced up at the sound of the register when you saw the cashier passing back one bag with all the records in it, Joost shooting him a quiet “dank je wel” Joost noticed your sudden silence and decided to get ahead of the barrage of questions you were about to spit.

“Listen youre doing me a huge favor right now so don’t even start yapping, cmon.” He turned to walk to the door and left you staring at his back. When he reached the door he finally turned and flashed his signature grin. “Hurry! don’t you wanna meet my children?”

You soon found yourself at the stoop of his door as he searched his pockets for his keys. Somehow in all the time you had know joost you had only stepped foot in his place once. He had taken you back after you went out and got sloshed at a nearby bar for your birthday, his house ended up being closer and he told you after (with tears in his eyes from laughter, the bastard) that you were babbling on and on teary eyed at the thought of throwing up in your neighbors yard for two weeks in a row. You remember waking up early morning still a little drunk and biked the short distance home. You were already embarrassed from your behavior the previous night so you didn’t think to take in your surroundings too hard.

Joost let out a happy gasp as he felt the cold metal of his keys on his large hand. He pulls out a small metal ring that has a mini stitch plushie, raccoon tail keychain, a little enamel Dutch flag and of course his keys. You both agreed it was best to meet his dogs and get comfortable walking all of them at once since they can get rowdy. You watched as he slid it in the keyhole and turned, unlocking the door. The response was instant, you heard skittering nails on the other side of the door.

“Ready?” He challenged, but swung the door open before you could say no. It was an immediate barrage of wet prodding noses and whimpers. As you and joost pushed through the mass of undulating slobbery fur they only became more excited to realize their loving owner had brought someone new home.

You honestly love dogs, you couldn’t lie, but it wavered to fear when you leaned down to offer a hand and were quickly sucked into a vortex of fur and yelping dogs. They were all quite large, all wanting all your unwavering attention. Joost had turned his back to set down the records and turned when he heard your yelps among his dogs. He saw your tousled form on the floor, splayed hand shielding your face from the onslaught of dog kisses, one sleeve of your shirt falling down your shoulder exposing the expanse of your collar bone and yet smiling through the chaos. He ignored the feeling this moment gave him and instead came over to tug you onto you feet.

“Sorry, I swear they’re nice guys once you get to know them.” Joost said apologetically, hoping to lighten the mood in case they mad a bad first impression on you.

“Its okay, some guys just don’t know how to act around a lady” you retorted with a smile, fixing your sleeve and dusting yourself off.

“They’re much better when they settle down, why don’t you help me feed them?” He showed you to his kitchen, you tried not to make it too obvious you were peeping at his home as you walked through. When Joost had his head in the pantry searching for dog food you took a moment to peek at the pictures hung on his fridge. There was a combination of pictures of him drinking with friends, and his sled team of dogs. You recognized some of the faces on there like Apson and Alanis, who you had met many times and had the most pictures. Your eyes skirted across the rest of the unfamiliar faces, feeling unnecessarily jealous when you didn’t see your own face hung up. You didn’t have time to really think about why before Joost swirled around and slammed an ample amount of dog food onto the counter in front of you.

“You ready? this might be alot”

The rest of your time spent together was spent going over their needs, He answered any questions you asked eagerly. You learned most were rescued and only one happened to be a girl. Joost was extremely animated talking about his pets, you could tell he had a true love for his animals. They were well trained and well loved and it was not hard to tell. Before you knew it the tour dates were fast approaching and Joost was packed to travel far from his home soil.

“I’m gonna miss you so much!” he cried, You felt your heart skip a beat at his words. “Awe i’m gonna miss you too, Joost-”

“Not you! I’m talking to my children now!” You watched as he tossed his bags to the side and dramatically dropped to his knees wailing. Rolling your eyes at him you approached his slumped figure, crossed your arms and watched as they swarmed around to get any attention from him they could. Joost, seemingly happy with his dramatic display, rose to his feet in front of you.

“I guess ill miss you, too” it was hard to ignore the way his voice dropped as he gazed at you one final time. It was harder to ignore how close he was to you, especially when you had to crane your neck to look up at him one final time. Joost always towered over most people, especially you, but you’ve never really noticed the view until now. His hair was getting a little longer now, framing his slim face and smooth pink lips. You never thought about how well that little mole accents his beaming smile, or how that very smile could warm right through the icy defenses you always put up.

Something about hearing the smooth words fall from his mouth had you frozen in place. Joost, ever the opportunist, seized the chance to scoop you into his embrace. He crouched down, curled upon himself to wrap long arms around you shoulders, like vines on a tree.

“Im really just gonna miss visiting the record shop” He pulled away to chide, fought against himself to not add ‘with you’ at the end.

“Don’t worry, ill keep an eye out for yo-“ you were cut off when Joost, seemingly overtaken from the dopamine of hugging you, straightened his back. Lifting you off the ground and squeezing his arms together with all his might.

“uff…. Joost….. imdying…”Your cheeks were pressed together at this point, his face clenched tight and straining from constricting you. You tried not to think how truly close you were, you could feel the corner of his curled smile against your cheek, your whole body rumbling when he let out a hearty laugh. You were interrupted by the sound of a phone buzzing, reality ripping you apart as Joost set you down to check his phone.

“Rides here…” You watched Joost scoop up his bags, seemingly in no rush to leave his fluffy friends and warm home behind. You followed him to the door, watched as he pulled out his keys to hand them to you.

“Be safe, Mr. Superstar” his had wrapped around your outstretched fingers, sandwiching the soft stitch plushies between your hands. Your eyes met briefly, you watched as Joost’s plush lips part to say something, but he’s interrupted by the rapid beeping of a car horn outside.

“I have to go, bye bye schatje!” Before you knew it he was standing by the car door, bag loaded in the trunk. You watched at the door, legs fully engulfed by mounds of fur that sadly sat watching the scene. He turned one final time to take in the image of you stood at his front door with his many dogs stood protectively around your legs. he lifted a lanky arm and flicked his wrist in an animated wave. You slowly waved the arm that wasn’t leaned against the doorframe and watched as the black suv disappeared into the asphalt horizon.

When you finally turned into the house you told yourself it was normal to feel so hollow watching your friend walk away from you, Convinced yourself that you didn’t feel the warmth of his cheek pressed to yours long after he left.

It wasn’t long before you heard your phone buzzing against your pocket, you fished it out to find out joost had already texted you.

joosti

missing my babies already (ಡ‸ಡ), hope you know i will be asking for many pictures of them

also this,

since i know you haven’t been keeping your duolingo streak (ಠ_ಠ)

The next message was a list of different dog commands translated from your native language into Dutch. You couldn’t help but smile at the messages, knowing Joost could still feel close to you while being so far away.

𓁹𓁹𓁹𓁹𓁹𓁹𓁹𓁹𓁹𓁹𓁹𓁹𓁹𓁹𓁹𓁹𓁹𓁹

A/n2: again this is my first fic so any and all feedback is honestly welcome. the ending is kinda weak but i really hope you enjoyed <3

[harryspurpleloofah]

Bunny (H.S)

Summary: Harry is explaining the terms and conditions to a man who wants to borrow money from him when Y/N walks in after having dealt with a man who had the balls to lie to Harry. Soon all the men leave Harry and Y/N alone.

TW: Harry’s drinking and smoking a lot, no graphic detail but mentions of blood alluding to injury, swearing, smut, riding, safe sex ☂️ , bit of fluff at the end, he’s not the nicest guy but he’s not a bad guy.

The bar was quiet, soaked in low golden light, the scent of whiskey and cigar smoke thick in the air. Outside, rain painted streaks down the windows, but inside, the world belonged to Harry Styles.

He sat in his usual booth..private, secluded, untouchable. One arm rested along the back of the leather seat, his fingers idly tracing the rim of the whiskey glass in his other hand. Across from him, the man sat stiff and uneasy, shoulders curled inward like he was trying to make himself smaller.

"You want money," Harry murmured, not a question—just a fact. His voice was smooth, slow, deliberate. A man with all the time in the world. "And you came to me because the banks won’t touch you, and every other poor bastard you’ve begged from knows you’re not worth the risk." The man swallowed hard.

Harry finally lifted his gaze, green eyes locking onto the man like a predator sizing up its prey. "That’s what you are, yeah? A fucking risk." He tilted his head, tapping one ringed finger against his glass. "But me? I’m a generous man. I don’t turn people away. I help them."

Relief flickered across the man’s face, just for a second. Harry smirked. They always made that mistake.

"You’ll take what I give you," he continued, voice never rising, never wavering. "And in two weeks, you’ll return it to me, plus fifty percent." He took a slow sip of whiskey, savoring the burn before setting the glass down with a soft clink. "Fail to pay on time, and the interest doubles. Another week? Triples."

The man shifted in his seat, his breath hitching. His mind was working a mile a minute, clearly calculating, panicking. "But…what if something happens? What if I can’t come up with it?"

Harry leaned forward just a fraction, his eyes sharp as blades. "You don’t want to ask questions, mate. You want answers. And here they are." He looked the man over, letting the weight of his words settle in like heavy stones. "You will pay. One way or another. Because I don’t give second chances. I don’t give fuckin' excuses."

The man’s voice cracked. "What…What happens if I don’t? What really happens?"

Harry’s smirk never faltered, but something cold flashed in his gaze. "You still don’t get it, do you?" He took another sip of his drink, casually, as if the conversation didn’t matter at all. "If you can’t pay in cash, you’ll pay in other ways."

The man leaned in, desperate, his voice growing more frantic. "Other ways? What do you mean by that? What are you gonna take from me? I—I have nothing to give!"

Harry studied him for a moment, eyes narrowing as the man flinched at his own words. "You really think I care about what you have?" Harry chuckled softly, the sound low and cruel. "I’ll take what’s mine. If I want something, I’ll have it. Whether it’s your money, your time, your freedom—or something you care about even more."

The man’s face went pale. "Something I care about? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Harry leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper, laced with cold venom. "It means when you owe me, I own you. You’ll do whatever I say, whenever I say it. If you can’t pay me, then you’ll pay with your life. And I don’t mean that as a threat—I mean it as a promise."

The man froze. Sweat started to bead on his forehead, but his mouth was dry, speechless.

Harry’s gaze never left him. He was patient, almost too patient, watching the man’s face twist with fear, confusion, and then realization.

"So what’s it gonna be?" Harry asked, voice almost bored now, as if the man’s decision was the least interesting thing in the world. "You pay, and we move on. Or you don’t, and I come to collect." He flicked his fingers dismissively. "Your choice."

The man sputtered, his chest rising and falling rapidly as panic settled in. He reached for the pen with shaking hands, still questioning, still uncertain. "But…what if I can’t get it??"

Harry’s eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. "Then you’ll understand exactly what I meant."

He let the silence hang, the tension so thick it was suffocating. The man barely had time to blink before Harry continued.

"Either way, you’ll pay," he repeated, voice calm as ever. "And trust me, you’ll wish you paid sooner. You’ll wish you never asked me for a penny. But by then, it’ll be too late."

The man flinched at his name. His hand grabbed the pen with trembling fingers, the weight of the moment sinking in. His mind was racing, but his body had no choice but to obey.

Harry sat back, watching, eyes cold and unblinking, as the man scrawled his name on the paper. Harry’s gaze moved to the contract, then back up to the man, his lips curling into a small, satisfied smile.

"Good. We’re done here," Harry said, voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

The man stood up too quickly, still shaking. Harry didn’t move, not even a muscle, as the man backed away, his eyes locked on Harry, still wide with fear.

Harry’s voice followed him as he stumbled toward the door.

"I’ll be seeing you soon. And next time…don’t be late."

Soon, the door to the bar creaked open, the sharp click of heels against the hardwood floor cutting through the heavy atmosphere. The usual hum of low chatter and clinking glasses seemed to hush for a moment, as if the room recognized her presence before even her figure entered fully. A woman stepped inside—Y/N.

She was a vision. A black dress clung to her like it was made for her body, the fabric smooth and sleek, catching the dim light as she moved. It wasn’t overly flashy, but it fit her like a glove, with an effortless sophistication that said she owned whatever room she walked into. The kind of dress you could wear anywhere, but still make everyone turn their heads.

Her legs were encased in sleek black leather boots. The duffel bag slung over her shoulder gave her an air of casual chaos, the leather creased under the weight of whatever she had carried with her. Her ringed fingers, now smudged with a deep crimson, brushed absently through her hair.

The manicured nails, sharp and polished, seemed at odds with the mess she’d made of herself..yet it all added to her untouchable charm. One ring on her fourth finger, a perfect fit. But not just any ring. Her wedding ring.

She didn’t flinch at the looks thrown her way, nor the subtle tension in the air. Her eyes scanned the room for just a second, flicking over the unfamiliar faces, but it was Harry she was after. And Harry was already watching her, the faintest glint of a smile tugging at his lips as she approached.

Y/N’s walk was slow, almost languid, but every step was deliberate, purposeful. The man across from Harry still looked like he was about to cry watched her with wide, confused eyes. Harry’s presence, usually commanding enough to make most people tremble, suddenly seemed to pale in comparison to hers.

She slid into the booth beside Harry with the ease of someone who owned everything including him and knew it. The world moved around her, but she didn’t even flinch. Not when the man’s gaze followed her, not when the men glanced in her direction.

She didn’t speak at first, just reached for the cigarette hanging from Harry’s lips and pulled it from between them. A sharp inhale, deep and unbothered, as the smoke curled lazily from her mouth.

"I can see you’ve been busy," she said casually, her voice smooth but sharp like velvet. She didn’t need to ask; she already knew exactly what Harry had been doing, who he'd been speaking to, and the weight of the deal he'd just made. The power dynamic didn’t change for her. She'd been in this world far too long to be impressed by men like him or the way Harry ran his affairs.

Harry turned his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Not busy enough," he answered, his voice low, heavy with a layer of satisfaction. "But I’m happy now that you’re here..."

Y/N flicked the cigarette to the ashtray with a practiced motion, eyes never leaving his. "You finished with him?" She nodded toward the man, who was still frozen, looking as though he might explode from nerves.

Harry glanced over at the man and then back to her, his expression unreadable. "We’re done. He knows what happens if he doesn’t get it together."

Y/N didn’t need to hear the rest. She'd seen the power Harry wielded, and she'd felt it countless times before. The deal was done, and the man’s fate had been sealed long before the pen hit the paper.

She slouched comfortably in the booth, her duffel bag now resting by her side as her body language turned laid back, like she’d been here a thousand times before. She crossed her legs, the hem of her dress shifting as her black boots clicked softly against the wood beneath her, and leaned in slightly toward Harry. "Good," she purred, her fingers grazing over his hand with a casual touch. "I don’t like waiting."

Harry’s lips curved into a knowing smile, the air between them charged with a dangerous kind of intimacy. He wasn’t just the one in control of the room, she had his attention, just as she always did.

The man, still standing awkwardly by the table, cleared his throat. But before he could speak, Y/N raised an eyebrow, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

"Do yourself a favor, mate," she said, voice silk-smooth but dripping with warning. "And leave. Before we make you regret sticking around any longer."

He quickly turned and left, his footsteps loud in the otherwise silent room, but neither Harry nor Y/N paid him any mind.

“What have you been up to, bunny?”, Harry gently asked her, taking her hand in his.

“I was dealing with that misogynistic prick. Brad. You know the forty grand he borrowed from you, baby?”

Harry nods, lighting himself another cigarette as she continues, “he spent at least half of them gambling and he other paying his lawyer to defend him against his wife who he hasn’t paid child support to in fucking years.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “got the money, love?”

She gestured to the bag. One of his men picked it up to look inside before nodding at Harry and putting it down. She turns to him.

Harry didn’t acknowledge her right away. He took his time.

One slow drag of his cigarette, one long sip of whiskey, his gaze lingering on the bloodstained curve of her knuckles before flicking back to the amber liquid in his glass.

Y/N smirked, kicking off her heels beneath the table before shifting to press herself closer, one leg crossing over the other, the sleek fabric of her dress riding up just enough to catch his attention.

Still, he didn’t look. Not yet.

"Busy today?" she murmured, tilting her head slightly as her fingers ghosted over the sleeve of his jacket, light and teasing.

Harry exhaled slowly, smoke curling between them.

"Should be," he muttered.

Y/N hummed, leaning in just enough that her perfume wrapped around him, something sweet and heady and utterly distracting. "Then why aren’t you?"

Harry finally turned his head.

That knowing little smirk, the subtle gleam in her eyes, the kind that told him she was enjoying this. Enjoying the fact that she could sit there, still stained from the night’s work, and have his full fucking attention without even trying.

She reached forward, plucking the cigarette from his lips, taking a slow drag before exhaling..deliberately close to his mouth.

Harry’s jaw tightened.

"You’re playing with me, Bunny," he muttered.

Y/N smirked around the cigarette, tapping the ash into his ashtray before leaning in again….closer this time.

"You always say that," she whispered, her breath warm against his jaw.

Harry’s fingers twitched against the glass in his hand. His men were still watching. He could feel them, their presence lingering, their gazes sharp, their patience thinning. And so was his.

A voice broke the silence. "Boss, we should—"

Everything stopped. Harry didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t even breathe.

But the air shifted. Something deep, impossibly lethal crept into his stillness, into the slow way he exhaled through his nose, like he was considering violence. His gaze flicked..just slightly.

One sharp, silent warning. The man froze. The others did, too. Because that look? They knew that look. That was the look a man gave right before he made an example out of someone. A thick, suffocating pause stretched between them.

"Out."

Not loud. Not a yell. Just low, cold, final.

The kind of command you didn’t hesitate to follow. And yet, one of them did. Just for a second. Just long enough for a flicker of hesitation to cross his face, for his weight to shift like he was thinking of saying something else. And then, he actually fucking spoke.

"Boss," the newbie said carefully, clearing his throat. "We should be focusing on business."

Silence.

Y/N raised a brow, but didn’t turn her head. She could feel Harry’s stillness beside her.

The newbie swallowed but kept going—fucking idiot.

"We've got clients to meet. Money to collect. Work to do." His voice had a hint of confidence now, like he actually thought he was making sense. "No offense, but...this isn’t important."

Y/N barely held back a smirk.

Not because he was right. But because he was about to learn something very important.

Harry finally turned his head..

"You new?"

The newbie shifted. "Y-yeah. I mean, I’ve been here a couple of months but—"

"Long enough to know how things work?"

"Of course, boss, I—"

"Good." Harry nodded once. "Then you should know better."

The confidence in the newbie’s face flickered. "I—I wasn’t trying to—"

"You were," Harry said smoothly, tapping his cigarette against the ashtray. "You thought I wasn’t paying attention. Thought you’d remind me of my responsibilities." He flicked his gaze back up, slow and sharp. "Thought you had something to say about my wife."

"You think I don’t know how to handle business?" His voice was smooth, almost amused. "Think I’ve forgotten how things run around here?"

The newbie hesitated. "I—I didn’t mean—"

Harry tapped the ash from his cigarette, barely sparing him a glance. "Let me remind you of something."

He leaned back, stretching his arm along the back of the booth, his other hand rolling the glass between his fingers. "I got married while running six schemes across three countries. While laundering more money than you’ll ever see. While dealing with eight clients, two shipments, and an overdue loan breathing down my fucking neck."

His gaze lifted finally locking onto the newbie.

"And all of them," he said slowly, "were handled. All of them were done and dusted. And every single one of them knew better than to call me the second my bedroom door closed."

"You wanna know why?" he murmured, swirling his drink. "Because they knew what was best for them."

Harry took another slow sip of whiskey before setting the glass down. "You got something else to say?"

The newbie shook his head. Hard.

Harry smirked, flicking his wrist toward the door. "Then get the fuck out." The door closed without a second more.

The door clicked shut behind Harry’s men, and the room fell into a thick, dangerous silence.

The second she saw they were gone, she swung her leg over his lap, straddling him with the same ease as a predator. No hesitation.

Harry didn’t blink. He didn’t move. He simply watched her, his hands resting at his sides, calm but ready.

Y/N took his cigarette from his lips without asking, the edges of her fingers grazing his skin as she crushed it in the tray beside them. Her gaze locked on his, playful, daring.

“It’s not good for you, baby,” she said, her voice dripping with mock sweetness.

Harry’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t respond. His eyes, however, were dark with something that had her breath catching in her throat. He leaned forward just a fraction, lips curling as he licked them slowly.

“Neither are you, bunny,” he shot back, his voice low and rough.

Y/N smirked and took his glass from the table, bringing it to her lips. She sipped it slowly, her eyes never leaving his as she set it back down with a soft clink.

“Neither is that,” she teased, running her hand down his chest like she owned him, like she knew he was already on the edge of losing it.

His hands twitched at his sides, fingers flexing, but he didn’t speak yet.

“Thought they’d never leave,” she murmured, her voice shifting to more sultry. “Missed you.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed, and he reached out, grabbing her wrist in one swift motion, pulling her closer until their bodies were flush, his lips brushing her ear.

“You missed me, huh?” His voice was laced with something dark. She unbuckled his belt and freed his cock from his boxers. She dug through her purse for a second, finding a condom and sliding it on before she looked back up at him.

“I’m not in the mood for foreplay ok?”

“Whatever you say, bunny.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, biting back a smile as she felt the heat building between them. Without another word, she moved, sliding herself down onto him. Slowly. Intentionally.

The second she sank down, she gasped, the feeling of him filling her sending a jolt of heat through her body. She was about to say something when his lips found her neck, his teeth scraping lightly against her skin, “what?”

“Don’t play coy with me,” Harry muttered, his voice strained as he gripped her waist tighter, pushing her down on him. "I’m the one who’s been waiting all night for this."

His fingers dug into her skin, pulling her into him as he moved his lips to hers, kissing her with ferocious urgency. There was no softness, no gentle teasing. This was about power, about claiming. “Bunny, come on let me have my fun.”

“I don’t need you to remind me who’s in charge,” she whispered, a dark laugh in her voice. “I already know.”

Y/N didn’t wait. She rode him good, her nails raking over his chest.

She reached up, her fingers grazing his chest with a tease before making quick work of his shirt. Her hands pulled at the collar, unbuttoning it with slow movements. The anticipation was thick, like every button that came undone added a layer to the building tension between them.

She soon managed it and slipped it off his shoulders, leaving him almost glowing in the dim light of the booth, his tattoos visible.

His hand shot up to her hair, threading his fingers through the soft strands, his grip tightening as he pulled her closer to him. His other hand found her waist, pulling her against him. He ran his fingers through her hair again, this time a little rougher, as his lips crashed against hers with ferocity.

“Fuck, Y/N.”

A while passes. It was going great but she was getting tired.

She bit her lip, trying to keep her focus, but she couldn’t deny it—she was feeling the strain in her legs, the ache in her pelvis. Harry’s hands were still gripping her waist, guiding her movements with firm, but slow control, and it was starting to feel a bit too controlled for her liking. She wanted more. She needed more.

She gave one last slow roll of her hips before she stopped, leaning forward to rest her hands on his chest for support, breathing heavily.

“You’re starting to look a little tired, baby,” Harry teased, his lips curling into a smirk as his hands tightened around her waist. “Should I do all the work now?”

Y/N shot him a playful look, her chest rising and falling with her quick breaths, but she didn’t argue. She was too exhausted, her legs aching with the effort. She wanted him to take control, to make her feel like she couldn’t breathe without him.

Without warning, Harry’s hands gripped her hips and flipped her onto her back, his body covering hers in an instant. She gasped, startled by the sudden change in position, but her surprise was quickly replaced by anticipation. His eyes darkened with desire, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips.

“You wanted me to do all the work?” he growled, his voice thick with need. “Well, here we are.”

Before she could respond, Harry slammed into her, his pace hard and fast as he took control of the situation. His hands were on her hips, keeping her in place as he moved above her, each thrust deep and precise. Y/N’s body arched beneath him, her hands gripping the sheets as she tried to keep her composure.

“Tell me how it feels, Bunny,” he murmured in her ear, his lips brushing against her neck as he continued to thrust into her. “You wanted me to take over, didn’t you?”

She could only moan in response, her head falling back into the pillows as his pace quickened, the tension in her body building again. She reached up, trying to grip his arms, but he was too far gone, too deep inside her for her to do anything but just look at him.

Harry leaned down, his lips pressing against her ear as he thrust harder. “I told you, didn’t I? Don’t ever forget who’s in charge here.”

Y/N’s nails dug into his skin as she writhed beneath him, her moans filling the space between their heated breaths. She could feel the hard length of his cock driving into her, each thrust sending ripples of pleasure through her core. Her voice grew louder, her words slurred with desire.

“Harry…oh, Harry…” she pleaded, her hips rising to meet his as if in defiance of gravity, trying to match his fervor.

Harry’s own breathing grew ragged as he intensified his pace. His hands roamed her body, one gripping her hair as he pulled her head back for a deeper kiss, the other sliding over her curves, exploring every sensitive spot with expert precision. His eyes darkened as he whispered, “You’re mine, Bunny. Let me have you—completely.”

Every thrust built upon the last, a symphony of heat and desire, until soon both of them were lost in a haze of sensation. The room seemed to disappear around them, leaving only the raw, unfiltered need that surged between their entwined bodies. Their rhythm quickened, and the air grew thick with the scent of sweat and desire as they edged closer to the peak of their passion.

“Cum for me,” Harry rasped, his voice rough with command and need, as he pounded into her with all the force of his desire. “Cum for me, Bunny—let it all out.”

Y/N’s response was immediate and explosive. Her body tensed, every muscle contracting as waves of pleasure crashed over her. Her cries mingled with his as she surrendered to the overwhelming release, her hands clutching at the sheets as she came undone beneath him. Harry’s own high wasn’t far behind; his pace surged as he reached his breaking point, his own release joining hers in a torrential, shared moment of ecstasy.

They came together, every thrust, every kiss, every whispered command melding into one singular, unforgettable explosion of passion. For that one, electrified moment, nothing existed except the two of them.

When the storm finally subsided, they lay tangled together on the soft couch, their breaths gradually returning to normal. Harry’s hand still rested in Y/N’s hair, stroking it gently as if to remind her that, even in the aftermath of their intensity, he remained her unwavering, dominant force.

Y/N lay there, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with her breath, her body still trembling from the release. Harry’s eyes softened as he looked down at her, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair away from her sweaty forehead. He could see the flush still creeping along her skin, the way her lips were slightly parted as she caught her breath

“You alright?” he asked, his voice low and soft, the usual dominance replaced by concern. He ran a hand over her body, almost as if checking if she was still there, still whole after the intensity of it all. His thumb traced the curve of her waist, and then he leaned in to place a tender kiss on her temple.

Y/N smiled, still catching her breath, but the warmth in her eyes told him she was more than okay. She nodded, reaching up to touch his face. Her fingers grazed his jawline, tracing the roughness of his stubble. “I’m good,” she said, her voice still breathy but soft.

Later that night they were in their shared king bed. He took her hands, now perfectly clean and lathered with handcream but he remembered the blood, “bunny?”

“Mm?”

“Maybe…we should go back to me handling the physical side of things..”

She looked up, “what? But I love helping you. I love doing this, we never hurt anyone for no reason you know that.”

“I’m aware love, I’m the boss remember? But I’m worried about you not our morals. What if something happens to you?”

“Couldn’t I say the same for you?”

“Well…”

“I guess we both have to be careful from now on. For each other.”

“Fair enough I guess.”

“Deal?”

“Deal, bunny.”

“Maybe….